Spectrum Volume II: Resistance
by SJO
Summary: Basicallly what I think "Volume 3: Villains" would look like if my OCs from "Spectrum" were part of it. You have to be familiar with this volume to know what's going on. A tiny bit of a "Fringe" crossover as well. Please Read and Review.
1. Change

Spectrum Volume II: Resistance

Note: _Heroes _is owned by NBC Universal, and _Fringe_ is owned by Fox. I'm rather sure that any song I post or make reference to is in public domain. I know I'm kinda defying the time I set in the first volume, but this is probably going to be very surreal anyway, just because it's based on a very surreal season.

Chapter 1: Change

Peter Petrelli–Present Day, Nathan's Press Conference

When Peter aimed the gun at his brother, he suddenly became aware that he did not travel to the past alone. He had his finger wrapped securely around the trigger and was just preparing to squeeze when suddenly all the surrounding people vanished. He found himself standing alone in a white room. Peter put the gun down and sighed in frustration.

"Peter Petrelli! Peter Petrelli!" The voice boomed all around him.

But Peter didn't even flinch. "Why did you come with me?" He turned around and looked at the beautiful twelve-year-old Japanese girl behind him, dressed in a kimono decorated with butterflies all the colors of the rainbow. She held up her head and gazed beyond him with a look of fear and concern.

"Why would you do this? He's your brother, your own brother!"

"Yes Hanami, but it has to be done. Ask your uncle; he'll tell you the same thing."

"He doesn't talk to me anymore. I'm worried about him. He's running from Mr. Masahashi."

"Does it stop you from talking to him?"

"He won't connect to the Ghost Network. But that's not important right now! You can't do this to Mr. Nathan! They're going to find out, you know, eventually."

"No, they won't. You don't understand now, but you will."

"You always say that, but I never do. Why must all these people be hurt? Why do they hurt each other?"

"Hanami, once I do this, people will stop hurting us. No more hiding from Mr. Knox with Gabriel and Dr. Bishop or Gam. No more hopping about through our minds in the Ghost Network. No more need to worry about the. . ." He couldn't say it. He couldn't talk about the destruction. So he just took a deep breath and said, "Things are gonna change."

"You know how I feel about change."

Peter shook his head. "You just need to trust me. Now, go home." Before Hanami could protest, Peter held up the gun and fired. Hanami covered her ear and screamed, and the dream scene faded away.

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme–Paris, France

He felt weird. He didn't want to get out of bed. He wasn't sure why; he just felt kinda weak. And there was some weird quality on his skin. It felt kinda slimy and cold.

But he knew he had to get out of bed. He fell down on his knees and pushed himself off the floor. Just standing up made him feel dizzy! He slowly stumbled to the bathroom, got out the shaving cream from the medicine cabinet, closed the mirror-door, and screamed. There was a huge leech on his forehead. He grabbed it and pulled it off, but the leech reattached itself. "DESCENDEZ! DESCENDEZ!" (get off) he kept screaming as he continued to try to pry it off his skin, but every time he removed the parasite, it would get back on.

He was about to give up when he found himself in bed again. He put his hand on his forehead just to make sure. No leech there. "Un cauchemar" (A nightmare), he told himself. Yet when he stood up, he felt a bit woozy. "I just need some coffee."

When he was ready, he went into the kitchen and started brewing coffee. He turned on the TV as he started to make an omelette when he heard the news.

"An American politician was gunned down last night in a press conference. Nathan Petrelli–"

"Petrelli?" Gabriel said aloud. He turned the TV up and watched even closer. He watched as the amateur video came up of Nathan. Gabriel only saw him in a picture once; at the time, Nathan was missing. It was hard to concentrate on what Nathan was saying as the interpreter talked over him. Gabriel's ability allowed him to immediately translate any language and hear it as his own, French. Though the interpreter was in sync with the politician, it was still a bit distracting. Yet Gabriel caught the last words, the unfinished phrase, before the bullets came.

"J'ai le capacite–"

_Le capacite_, the ability. "He's like Peter! Oh, Peter, is he alright?" He ran beck to his bedroom, grabbed his cell phone, and search through the contacts until he found Peter Petrelli's number. Quickly, he called his old American friend.

"Hello?" a tired voice said.

"Peter Petrelli! C'est bien? C'est bien?!"

"Yeah, Gabriel, I'm fine."

"Oh, I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I've been awake."

"I just heard the news. How is your brother? Is he going to be alright?"

"He'll be fine. I just know, he's going to be OK."

"Did they catch who did this?"

"Not yet, but I hear Matt's on it. He'll find 'em."

"Uh . . . Matt?"

"Oh, Officer Matt Parkman. I don't think you met him. He can read minds."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Listen, Gabe," (Gabriel winced; he hated it when people called him by his shortened name), "how've you been?"

"Uh . . . _ca va_." (OK, literally it's going). "A little tired, but–"

"Where are you?"

"I'm . . . at my apartment in Paris, why?"

"You're . . . not at Cambridge?"

"Cambridge? That's an American city, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's where Harvard is."

"I . . . don't go to Harvard. I'm about to graduate at Papa's university, remember?"

"Oh, that's right."

"In fact, I'm trying to look for a job. I'm a little stuck, trying to find a place best suited to my go–"

"Don't worry about that now, Gabe. Just stay where you are."

"Is there nothing you need me to do with you?"

"No, we got everything handled down here. Just stay put, and take care of yourself. _D'accord_?" (OK)

"_D'accord_," Gabriel said dejectedly.

"I mean that, even if you hear from anyone from the Circle, stay where you are. Stay in Paris."

Gabriel was getting worried at Peter's urgent tone. "Am I . . . in danger?"

There was a long pause.

"Peter? Are you there?"

"No, you're not in danger. It's for your own good."

But Gabriel knew there was something Peter wasn't telling him. Still, he trusted him because he knew how much Peter can do and that Peter was always a selfless hero. "Fine."

"Good. Thanks for calling, Gabe. I'll talk to you later."

"Why do you–?" But Gabriel heard a dial tone. Gabriel turned his phone off, too. Maybe it was an oversight.

* * *

Claire Bennet–Costa Verde, California

On the way home, Claire stopped by a new neighbor's house. A girl she knew from her home in Texas had moved in recently.

"How's she doing?" Claire asked the girl's mother.

"I thought it would be a nightmare adjusting to the change, but Harmony's found something to keep her occupied." Mrs. Miller opened the door to a playroom. A red-headed girl stared up at the television with an intense expression. Claire came closer and smiled as a familiar Disney character fell flat on his face.

"_Pinocchio_! I love that movie."

Mrs. Miller smiled. "Yeah, I didn't even know we had it." She gestured for Claire closer. "But the strange thing is, she won't watch the whole movie, just this one scene. She watches it over and over. It's enough to drive me nuts."

"Lyle and I used to be like that. We watched that luau scene in _The Lion King_ so many times, we wore out the tape."

"Did you get upset if anyone interrupted you?"

"Oh."

"The good news is she is picking some echolalia. She can repeat words. I've heard her say 'Pinocchio,' 'Jiminy Cricket,' and 'Strombolli,' only she says it 'Strom-bully.'"

"So at least she's talking. I guess that's something. What about her dad?"

"He's going to be gone for a few weeks. Missionary trip."

"And her powers?"

"They've been under control, especially after she discovered this."

"Alright. Well, if anything happens, just give me a call."

"Hey, Claire, where's your father?"

"He . . . he's also away."

Just after the yellow-haired girl left, Harmony started the movie again. She had to learn the magic song, just like the good witch told her to, so she can feel her powers make her safe. She mouthed the words with Pinocchio,

"I got no strings to hold me down

To make me fret or make me frown . . ."

* * *

Gabriel just didn't get it. Why was Peter so adamant? Why can't he leave? He can't let this go on for too long. He needed a job so that he could pay the rent on his apartment. His inheritance won't cover it anymore since the rent was going up. He spent some time working at the campus adaptive technology lab, which specialized in computer technology for students with disabilities. It was a very empowering experience as he made new friends and connected with a community he was part of (Gabriel has Asperger's Syndrome, a mild form of autism), but it still wasn't enough to pay his bills. He didn't want any old job, though. He wanted a job that will somehow move him toward his goal of winning the Nobel someday, something that will allow him to use his new skills to change the world forever. Perhaps there was still a way to get his foot in the door.

He dialed Mohinder's number. After a couple of rings, he heard an Indian voice answer, "Hello?"

"Mohinder?"

"Oh, Gabriel! I was hoping to get in touch with you. I have some exciting news."

"Really? What is it?"

"I think I found a cure!"

Gabriel's heart sunk. "A cure?"

"Yes, I found a very strong connection to adrenaline. I'm in the process of isolating the strand and creating a serum which will counteract it. I wish you could be here to see it. History is in the making."

Gabriel felt like he was going to be sick. "Mohinder, how . . . why? You know how I feel about this."

"Well there are some who are less fortunate than you, Gabriel."

"But they shouldn't be ashamed for who they are!"

"Gabriel, I have a friend here who kills people when she weeps. This is something that must be corrected."

"Oh wait, you mean . . . this is a cure for the things your father hypothesized in his book."

"Yes, of course! What did you think I was talking about?"

"Autism."

"Oh. Well, that's not really my field, you know."

"But I don't understand. Didn't your father say this was evolution?"

"Yes, that was his claim."

"Then why are you trying to interfere with it? Evolution is a force. It can't be stopped, right? If we try, we won't evolve."

"Don't worry. I'm even trying another serum, which, if my hypothesis is correct, will add abilities to those who have none."

Somehow, that didn't seem right either, but Gabriel couldn't think of a reason why. "Mohinder, I was calling to see if you need someone to help you with your research."

"What?"

"I'm looking for a job, any job that will help me . . . you know–"

"Get the Nobel?"

"_Oui_."

"Well, I don't need help right now, but I'll keep my eyes open."

"Merci, mon ami. Bonne chance (good luck) on your work." Gabriel hung up, and almost the exact second he did, it rang again. "Allo?"

"Gabriel!"

The boy recognized the enthusiastic Japanese voice immediately. "Hiro!"

"I was hoping I'd reach you!"

"How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm alright. I'm the head of my father's company now."

"What about your sister?"

"She left to look after Hanami."

"And how is she?"

"She's a bit more withdrawn, but she's alright. Listen, Gabriel, I called to say Father's option is still open."

"To work at Yamagato Industries."

"We have an opening in Research and Development, but I'll be happy to promote you from the start. In fact, I'll bring you here personally." (Hiro chuckled.)

"Do you have anything about adaptive technology?"

"Oh yes! That part always needed a lot more help. Yes, that'll be good if you could join them."

"I just might then. Let me think about it first."

"Please take the job, Gabriel. It would be good to have another friend here, along with Ando. I'm so bored. I just wish Father left more for me, like a way to find my destiny."

"I understand, but you know, I am still looking for mine."

"If you work for us, I will do all I can to help you find it."

"That's what I like to hear. Well, I got a few places I'm checking on. I'll get back to you."

"I'm glad to hear it. _Merci, mon ami_."

"_Hai. Sayonara_." Gabriel hung up and stood to put the phone back on the hook, but he was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness. He fell back on the couch, feeling as weak as he did in the morning. But how could a dream do this to him?

* * *

Michael Bonhomme–Paris, France

Across town in an office on university campus, Gabriel's father was trying to grade papers, but he was distracted.

Michael Bonhomme went through a traumatic experience. He was kidnaped and experimented on

for four years. Gabriel was told his father was killed in a car accident, but during that time Michael was regressed. Like his son, Michael had a mild form of autism, but the experiments gave him savant abilities. He couldn't stop playing the piano, and sometimes when he wanted to stop because his hands hurt, they forced him to keep playing. Then one day, without explanation, he turned into a bird and flew away. He found he was a transfigureer–he could turn things, and himself, into other things. He tried for a long time to escape he experience by continuing to transform himself into animals, but that power suddenly stopped working. Then he met Peter Petrelli and became reunited with his son. But the memories of that terrible place still plagued his mind. The Haitian refused to take them away.

One of the stranger memories kept coming back to him. He remember numb all over, so much so he couldn't control his body. He was paralyzed. And he was so cold. Someone pulled off all his clothes, except for his boxer shorts. Michael felt himself lifted up and carried and then placed in a shallow pool of water. He floated! It was like being in the Dead Sea, it just held him up. Michael tried to shiver, but he couldn't; it was awful. He saw a shadow fall over him, and he heard a voice with a strange accent.

"I am sorry about this, but I have no other alternative. If you had a child, you would understand."

He couldn't see the speaker, just the shadow. Michael felt his lips quiver as he tried to say what was on the tip of his tongue. The doors closed above him, shutting him into darkness. For so long, he just tried to say that thought on his mind, just tried to shiver. Slowly, slowly, he felt his skin tighten into goose bumps. His lips moved, and he found his voice.

"But . . . but . . . I am a father."

Suddenly, images of his son flashed before his eyes at breakneck speed. He had been trying to forget Gabriel so he could distance himself from the pain. Now, it wouldn't stop. His head throbbed, and he heard a strange ringing in his ears. He screamed. And then, he was surrounded by a brilliant green light, and he had no idea where it came from.

No idea until recently. It came from inside of him. It was his power made manifest. For reasons he still didn't know, those on the spectrum could do that. It usually worked on its own; the only certain time it appeared was when they were all together.

Michael didn't know exactly why he was so fixated on this memory, except for one feeling he couldn't explain. He was so proud of his son, but something about what Gabriel was doing . . . made Michael very worried.

* * *

Gabriel opened his eyes. "Oh, I must have taken a nap on the sofa," he thought out loud. "Well, it's probably just what I needed." But as soon as he said that, he groaned. "Oh, my head!" Suddenly, his arm felt all cold and slimy. He lifted his left arm and saw a gigantic leech hanging on it. "Not again! Get off, you_ sangsue_!" He pulled and he pulled, but it wouldn't come off. His arm ached, and the leech only grabbed tighter.

Then, with a jump, he woke up again. The leech was gone. "These dreams are strange. I wonder if my mind is telling me something is wrong me. Do I have a parasite?" As he sat up, he felt dizzy again and fell off the couch. "Oh, I must go to the clinic."

But the moment he opened up the door, he was confronted by a young woman with short, platinum blond hair and big eyes. "Hi," she said curtly.

"Oh, _je suis desole, mademoiselle._ I was sleeping, and I didn't hear you knock."

"Didn't," she said with a shrug.

"You didn't knock?"

"Well, I didn't have time to. I just got here. You kinda quick for someone who just took a nap."

Gabriel scratched his head. "Well, I–"

"'Course, I'm quicker!" Gabriel looked up and saw the girl was gone. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned around to see her behind him.

"How'd you do that? Can you teleport? I have a friend who can do that."

"No," she replied in a rather annoyed voice. "Look, you're Gabriel Bonhomme, right?"

"Uh, _oui mademoiselle_."

"I was sent to tell you that an internship has been reserved for you." She put a business card into his hand.

"Pinehearst?" he read. "I've never heard of it. Where is it?"

"Don't worry. Transportation and everything else will be arranged."

"What business are they in?"

"Oh, the kind of business I think you know something about." She raised her eyebrows at him as though she knew everything about him.

"Well, please tell them I'll think about it. I have a few more offers. Yamagato Industries just called me earlier, and I've received a few letters from Massive Dynamics."

"Yeah, think about it. When you're ready, just call the number on the back of the card."

Gabriel turned it over and saw a phone number. He felt a very strong breeze, and he looked to see the girl was gone. He shrugged, put the card in his pocket, and continued to walk down the stairs. The second he stepped off the last step, there was another strong breeze and she was there again.

"One more thing. Um, I'm kinda new in town, and I haven't met many people around here who speak English as well as you do. Would you mind showing me around sometime?"

"Perhaps later. I'm going to the doctor now."

"Cool. Well just look me up. Name's Daphne."

"Daphne. OK."

She nodded and was gone in a purple blur. _So, she's a roadrunner, _Gabriel thought.

* * *

Even as Daphne was running, she suddenly was surrounded by white walls. "What the–?"

"Miss Daphne?" Daphne turned around and saw Hanami looking at her with all curiosity.

"Who are you?" Daphne said annoyed.

"You don't know me yet, but I know who you are. Why did you take the formula from Uncle Hiro?"

"That was your uncle?" Daphne scoffed. "Look, it's nothing personal. I did it because I was hired. I was told to!"

"People are hiding because of that piece of paper. People are afraid of getting hurt. Some people are dying."

"Where? When?"

"It's going to happen."

"Well, it's none of my concern! I'm not gonna worry about it."

The girl walked slowly up to her and lifted her face toward Daphne's eyes. "You're ashamed, aren't you?"

Daphne was really taken aback at that. "What? Ashamed? What have I got to be ashamed about? I'm not ashamed about being a thief, if that's what you're saying."

"No. You know what I mean. Gam always says you can't be ashamed of who you are. Don't be ashamed of who you are."

Daphne shook her head. How can this stupid, creepy little Japanese girl know anything about that? "Look, I don't know who you are, but . . . just leave me alone!" Daphne quickly turned her back on her and ran away.

* * *

The doctor came back into the examination room. Gabriel looked up expectantly at him, but the doctor shook his head. "All the tests we ran are normal. You don't have any parasites. I really think according to the symptoms you described to me, you're running low on electrolytes."

"Electrolytes?"

"Yes. It would account for the dizziness and the weakness. Just drink some water, or better yet some sports drinks, and try to get plenty of sleep."

Gabriel nodded doubtfully. "Alright, doctor."

The doctor raised his eyebrow at Gabriel. "Is there a reason why you thought you had a parasite?"

"There is, but I'm not sure if you'd believe it. It's not really medical."

"Go on. Tell me."

"Well . . . I've been having this dream. I'd wake up, and I'd find a _sangsue_ on me. And the more I tried to pull it off, the more it hung on. And every time I woke up, I'd feel dizzy and weak, and it just got worse. I thought something was wrong with me, and my mind was trying to tell me."

"Dreams are . . . usually a bit more metaphorical than that. Perhaps there's someone in your life that you feel is draining you of your time and money."

"No, I don't think so."

"I think to resolve this dream, you need to find out who that person or thing is. It might even be you. Your body thinks your taxing it of its energy, and maybe you need to take a break."

"But I got to find a job, and quick!"

"Ah, maybe that anxiety is contributing. Whatever it is, you need to find it and resolve it. That will take care of your dream."

Gabriel just looked up at him. He didn't understand how real it felt.

* * *

After Sylar's attack, Claire walked alone on the streets, thinking. She passed by Harmony's house and saw the girl curled up and hugging her knees on the front porch swing. Claire tried to work up a smile as she walked up to the porch. As she came closer, she could hear the girl whisper to herself the lyrics to "I Got No Strings." "Hey, Harmony," Claire said in a dismal cheery voice.

Harmony didn't respond.

"So, did you see the whole movie?"

Harmony didn't look at her but shook her head as she continued to whisper the lyrics.

"You know, you ought to. It's a good movie, not just that one song is good. You know, there's another song I used to really like." She felt a little silly singing it, but if the girl didn't see this part, she probably never heard it. "When you feel temptation and the urge is very strong, give a little whistle. (Whistle) Give a little whistle. (Whistle) Something, something, something, and you don't know right from wrong, give a little whistle. (Whistle) Give a little whistle. (Whistle)"

Harmony still didn't pay any attention. Claire stopped for a moment. She remember when she really loved that song, about when she was five. She and Lyle used to sing it all the time. One day she was in the playroom by herself, and she started singing the song without thinking. The TV was not on, but she could have sworn that she heard someone answer her whistle. She looked everywhere around the room, even through her whole toy chest, but she couldn't find anyone. Nobody knew what she was talking about, and nobody really believed her. Somehow she convinced herself that it was her dad, even though he was away again. So she started believing that even when he was away, if she were in trouble, she could whistle and wish him back, and he'd return to help her. Oh, how stupid was that! If she knew then what she knows now . . .

"Anyway," she said with a sigh, "if anything ever happens and your powers aren't good enough, you can just whistle for me. You know that, right? I'm your friend, Harmony. I'll help you. You do know how to whistle, right?"

Harmony answered by puckering her lips and blowing. It made barely a sound at all.

Claire nodded. "Not bad." She turned away and got back on the sidewalk. The last verse occurred to her, "Take the straight and narrow path, and you start to slide, give a little whistle, give a little whistle, and always let your conscience be your guide."

_Do I even have a conscience anymore? _she wondered.

* * *

That night, Mohinder had the serum in his hands. He had the greatest temptation inside, and the only way to know the truth was to act on it. But even as he drew the needle closer to his vein, he was stopped by brilliant white walls appearing around him.

"Dr. Mohinder!"

He turned around. "Hanami? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Japan?"

"I'm in your mind, doctor. What are you doing?"

Mohinder looked up dramatically. "Making history happen."

"This is going to turn you into something you're not. This isn't supposed to happen to you, doctor! You're supposed to win the Nobel!"

"You sound like Gabriel."

"It's what he says all the time."

"Well, Gabriel needs to understand that they don't just hand Nobels out, you know. They need concrete proof, and what better proof than this."

He grabbed the needle again, but she approached him begging. "Don't change, doctor! Please! Be happy with who you are!"

"Hanami, survival of the fittest could take hundreds of years. How can mankind evolve if we all don't evolve?" Before she could answer, he jabbed the needle into him.

* * *

"Gabriel."

It was a soft, female whisper in his ear. He felt a nudge on his arm.

"Gabriel, wake up!"

How could this be? Gabriel slowly opened one eye and saw a older woman with black hair and very red lips looking down at him. "_Vous_!" he whispered in shock. He only saw this woman in person once in his life, and it was a very long time ago. He tried to sit up, but he was too tired, so instead he stared at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I know, Gabriel," she whispered. "I know how you feel about me, and I apologize. You misunderstood my intentions."

"What intentions? The only intentions you had were to take me away from my home."

"There was more to it than you think. We don't have time to talk about it now." She knelt down so that she looked him directly in the face, which Gabriel found very uncomfortable. Then she smiled and put her hand on Gabriel's face. Her hand was so cold, and her fingers were wrinkled. Gabriel turned away from her touch. "Listen to me, nephew. Things are going to change very soon, and I know how much you hate change."

He couldn't look at her. "I don't wanna leave home. I love France! _Viva le France_!"

"This isn't about leaving home. It's a lot worse. But Gabriel, you can stop it. You can keep it from happening."

He glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

She looked at his bedside table and chuckled at the title. "Disability Studies?" She turned back to him and gave him a sad smile. "You don't have a disability, Gabriel."

"But I do! I have autism!"

"You don't know. You don't realize it, but you have the greatest ability of them all. It can be your salvation. It can be _our _salvation."

"I don't understand." How is automatically translating everyone's language better than time traveling or healing or invisibility or all those things Peter can do? Could she mean something else, like his connection to the Circle? Suddenly, he felt a sting and a slimy cold feeling on his arm. He turned over and saw the large leech attached to his left arm. Moreover, he saw his bed was full of leeches! Gabriel screamed and fell out of bed. Leeches splattered all over him, each one of them biting him, clamping onto him. He could feel them sap his strength right out of him. His great aunt was now standing, looking down on him, doing nothing to help. "What's happening?"

"Beware, Gabriel," she said sternly, for the first time speaking above a whisper. "There's always someone who'd stop at nothing to make you vulnerable."

"Sylar?"

"No, worse. Always be alert, be suspicious. Never let your guard down, not for a second, not even for a friend."

"What should I do?"

"Resist, Gabriel, resist!"

"HOW?!?" It took a while for Gabriel to realize that she was gone, and so were the leeches. It was all another dream, but what did it mean?

To Be Continued . . .


	2. Offers

Chapter 2: Offers

Gabriel Bonhomme: Paris, France

Gabriel stayed in bed for a little while, just going over the dream in his head. So, now he knew where it was coming from. It was a warning. Maybe the leech isn't after his energy or his money. It was after his powers. But somehow, he had the power to keep from being a host. Resist? His only clue, his only instruction. But how?

Suddenly, a memory came back to him, Sylar's dark voice. "You have a way of resisting me." It was true, every time Sylar tried to kill him, there was some sort of power Gabriel couldn't explain that kept Gabriel from harm. Sometimes, others protected him, but sometimes he really couldn't think of an explanation. How could he be expected to do something he didn't know how to do?

Maybe he should backtrack. He knew nothing about this woman, only that she was his mother's aunt and Peter Petrelli's mother. He didn't even know her name. The one time he saw her, at his father's funeral, she didn't even tell him. Even as much as she talked to him, she never said. At least, he didn't think she did. He couldn't remember. His father said she was a bad person, one who tried to keep him from marrying her niece. He even suspected that this woman was somehow guilty for killing Gabriel's mother. Beyond that, nothing. Well, there's someone who'd know better than either of them.

Gabriel tried to take a moment to gather his thoughts. He turned on his TV.

"--a happy ending to the shooting in America. Nathan Petrelli was seen at a local chapel, fully recovered. He credits what happened to him to be a miracle from God. No word yet about who was responsible for the shooting. Rumors are Petrelli will soon be seeking a position in the American Senate."

"_That's a relief,"_ Gabriel thought. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then muted the TV, took a deep breath, and dialed Peter's number.

A couple of rings, and someone picked up. "Hello?"

"Bonjour, Peter," Gabriel answered.

"Oh, hi Gabe."

Gabriel winced again, that shortened name. He thought about bringing it up but decided it wasn't appropriate. "I-I just heard the good news about your brother."

"Yeah, I knew he was going to be OK."

"What happened?"

"Well . . . it wasn't fatal. That's all there was to it."

Gabriel doubted that, but he decided not to press the issue. "And they really have no clue who shot him?"

"Uh, no."

"What about that police officer you were telling me about, the one who could read minds?"

"Strange thing, he's MIA."

"MIA?"

"Missing in action. It's like he disappeared."

"You don't think the same person who shot your brother kidnapped him, do you?"

"It's . . . possible."

"Then, it's someone who knows about our powers, yes?"

"Look, Gabe, nothing personal, but I don't have time to talk about this right now. I'm working on a rather important project that concerns the future of this planet."

"_Un moment, s'il vous plait! _I was just making conversation. I called to ask you something important."

Peter sighed. "Very well, Gabe, what is it?"

Gabriel cringed again and nearly asked about his name again but once more decided to avoid the issue, since he only had one chance. "I need to ask you about your mother."

"My mother? Why?"

"I had a dream about her last night."

"What kind of dream?" Peter's voice suddenly sounded urgent.

"Well, I've had this recurring dream about _un sangsue_, a leech sapping energy out of me. In this dream, there was several leeches in my bed, and then she was there telling me to resist."

"Normally, if I were you, I wouldn't trust her. She has a tendency to be very manipulative. In this case, though, I suggest you follow that advice."

"But how do I resist?"

"Don't worry about that. Just trust your instincts."

"And she told me that I misunderstood her intentions. What could she mean by that?"

Peter scoffed. "Gabe, it's her nature to keep her intentions hidden. She always has secret motive based on her prophetic dreams. Like I said, she's usually one not to be trusted, but I would make an exception in this case. Look, really, I wouldn't worry about it unless you have another dream about her. As long as you stay where you are, you really have nothing to worry about."

"About that, Pete--"

"I really don't have time to talk about that now, Gabe. I've got work to do. Don't call again unless you see Mom in your dreams again, and stay where you are. Understood?"

Gabriel sighed. _"Oui."_

"Good boy. See ya." He hung up.

The boy listened to the dial tone for a few moments, then hung up himself. He shook his head. That told him nothing. He dialed another number and listened for it to pick up again. "Bonjour, Papa. I need to come over . . . Today, as soon as possible . . . We need to talk."

* * *

Harmony Miller--Costa Verde, California

"I got no strings to hold down,

To make me fret, or make me frown.

I had strings, but now I'm free.

There are no strings on me."

"You're doing very good, Harmony," the witch told her. She smiled. She looked a lot like Grandma. She was a little scary but nice.

"Don't understand," Harmony wondered. "It don't feel magic."

"It only works at certain times, when you most need it, when you're the most scared."

"But what it do?"

"You'll see. Very soon, you'll see."

"It magic for Pinocchio?"

"Sure. In the storybook, when he sang a song like this, the other puppets came to life like he did. But more important than that, it helped him realize that he wasn't just a puppet on a lonely string. Pinocchio was very special. And that's what I need you to learn."

Someone was coming to the house, a tall man with dark hair. Harmony remembered him. He held her hand when they made the colors go around. He came closer and closer to her, and he didn't look happy. Harmony hugged her knees and was singing again,

"I got no strings to hold me down,

To make me--"

But then he came up and grabbed her arm so it hurt. "Harmony, you can't sing that song," he said.

* * *

Michael sat his son down and poured him a glass of tea. "What's wrong, son, homework you need help with? I'll do my best to help you wrap things up, you know."

"_Non_, Papa," Gabriel answered.

"How's your job search going?"

"_Ca va_, but I'm not here to talk about that either."

"Then what is it?"

"I need you to tell me all that you can about my great aunt, Peter's mother."

Michael sat down with an agonized sigh, one that said he dreaded this conversation. "Why do you ask?"

Gabriel decided not to talk about the dream because he didn't want his father to worry. "I was just thinking about her, and I realized I didn't know anything about her. I don't know about Peter's father either. I don't even know their names!"

"Her name is Angela Petrelli, and her husband is Arthur Petrelli. They had a summer home here in Paris. When your mother and I were serious, she introduced me to them. They acted graciously enough at the table, laughing and smiling and talking. Angela, though, kept prodding me, asking all kinds of questions. I think she really questioned if I was right for her niece as a husband, but I didn't know what she was up to. As it turned out, she did doubt me. Ruth told me after we married that Angela talked to her multiple times to get her out of marrying me. She even suggested that she would offer Ruth a child to adopt if she gave up our engagement. I didn't really know Arthur because most of the time I came to visit, Arthur wasn't even there. Sounds like he was in the Viet Nam War, and he had some friends he liked to spend some time with frequently. I learned that he didn't really approve of our marrying either, but he encouraged Ruth more and promised to support her whatever she decided. He was true to his word. He brought Angela to our wedding. I still remember that moment at the reception, it was really strange. He shook my hand and said, 'We are honored to have you as part of the family, Michael. I expect great things from you.' And Angela didn't even recognize that I was there. She greeted Ruth and wished her luck, but she didn't even look at me. That was the last time I saw them. Well, I saw Angela back on our trip to America a while ago, but I never saw Arthur again. I don't know what he wanted from me."

"Oh, Arthur Petrelli passed away."

"He did?"

Gabriel nodded. "It happened a couple of years ago. I saw we got a telegram from America. I asked Aunt Lydia what it was about, and she said my great uncle Arthur had died of a heart attack. I didn't feel anything; I didn't know him."

"That's sad. I think he was probably a very good man."

"Yeah. We didn't go to the funeral. Couldn't afford it."

"And so only Angela is left."

"And you say she's not a good person?"

"Well, she didn't like me. She tried to trick me into thinking that she did. She may have been responsible in sending me to Northpoint, and she may have killed your mother. On the other hand, she may have saved my life when others wanted to terminate me at Northpoint."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I don't know it all. I'm relying a lot on guesses."

"So you don't think she could ever be trusted?"

Michael leaned over and looked at his son in interest. "Why are you asking me this?"

It was tough replying, but Gabriel found a delicate way of saying it. "Say she tried to send me a message. Should I listen to her?"

"I wouldn't. I supposed it depends on what she said. But it's up to you to decide."

"Alright, Papa, that's what I needed to know."

* * *

Harmony didn't understand why the tall man wanted to make her stop singing. The way he was holding her arm made her more scared, and she just kept singing.

"I mean it, Harmony! You have to stop!"

Then, she could feel him going into her head, and she could hear his voice louder than ever. "Harmony, you have to stop."

"Stepping on more butterflies, are you Peter?" the good witch said.

"You! You're behind this? You don't know what you're doing!"

"I'm protecting her."

"This song will become a crutch! She'll get exploited! What they'll do to her is horrible!"

"What will happen to her otherwise is even more horrible."

Harmony didn't like all of this talking in her head. "Stop it! Go away!" And then, they were gone. The tall man let go of her arm and jumped so high he touched the sky. Harmony hugged her knees and started singing again.

* * *

A few days passed. Gabriel decided to go take a walk at the beach to clear his head. He took a bus to a pebble beach resort on the coastline. It was Saturday, and it was already rather busy. As Gabriel got off the bus and started walking up a bridge to the beach, he saw a boy sitting at the very top o the bridge, dangling his feet off the ledge. Gabriel had seen the boy before. "Bonjour, Thomas." But he didn't even turn around. He just sat there, watching the water roll. Gabriel decided not to bother him and headed for coastline.

He wasn't really interested in talking to anybody. He just wanted to feel the ocean foam ebbing under his feet and pick up a few smooth stones and roll them around in the palm of his hand. There wasn't much else which made him feel more peaceful.

He still didn't understand why Peter was so adamant. Did he not want Gabriel to get a job? He hadn't heard from Hiro in a while, even when Gabriel tried to call back. In fact, the only people he had heard from was the only company he didn't know as well. A woman named Nina Sharpe from Massive Dynamics called to check in on him. It sounded like they had a satelite research group just outside of Boston, and she said he would be beneficial to them. How she knew anything about him or where she got his information was a mystery to him. And Pinehearst. Something about that felt too much like Northpoint, the horrible organization who kidnapped his father and led on that he was dead. Perhaps the spy knew something about that.

Suddenly, someone tackled him from behind, grabbing the hood on his jacket so that Gabriel choked. The world went dark as two hands covered his eyes. "Guess who?" a voice whispered in his ear.

Gabriel would recognize that British accent anywhere. "Monsieur Rains!"

He was let go, and a hand patted him hard on the back and the voice answered, "Only you'd get it right the first time, mate!"

"If you don't think anyone else would recognize your voice, you're crazy."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Gabriel."

* * *

A rather insistant knock on the door. Michael was a bit hesistant to open it; he was wearing a robe over his pajamas. Yet he knew it would be rude to leave a guest hanging, so he opened. He was rather surprised to see who was standing there.

"Good morning, Mr. Bonhomme."

"Oh, I know you. You were there at the Circle. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."

"It's Bennet. Noah Bennet." The man extended a hand for him to shake, and Michael took it hesistantly.

"Come on in. Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be nice."

Michael poured him a mug. "I'm sorry I don't have much else to offer. I wasn't expecting guests today."

"It's quite alright. I've seen worse."

"What can I do for you, sir?" Michael asked carefully.

Bennet took a sip out of his coffee, then put it down. "I actually wanted to talk to your son, but I doubt he'd be very cooperative. And I'll be brief as I must head back before they find out I'm out of my cage."

"What is it?"

"The way we do things in the Company is rather simple--one of us, one of them."

"You mean someone with powers and someone without."

"Exactly."

"Which are you?"

"Without. And the partner they put me with, I don't trust him at all. I work with him just because I'm told to, but I need someone else, someone I can trust."

"What about the man from Haiti?"

"He's been sent on his own missions."

"And my son's friend, the one who's invisible."

"He let me know rather emphatically last time that those days are over. But the reason I'm here is to ask you." Bennet leaned forward and smiled at Michael. "How would you like to be a spy?"

* * *

"Bagguette?" Gabriel asked, holding out half a loaf of French bread.

Claude quickly took it. "_Merci_," he said in the best French accent he could manage. Gabriel chuckled as Claude took a big bite. "So," Claude said with his mouth half full, "this is what you have instead of hot dogs and French fries and oversized pretzels."

"That's right. Who needs all that American food?" Gabriel brought his half up to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Oh, I love the smell of baked bread."

"Who doesn't?" Claude took another bite. "Have you any jam?"

"What do you need condiments for? _C'est parfait_!" (It's perfect.)

"Well, it might be perfect, but it could still use some jam."

Gabriel chuckled again, then he turned to his friend. "You look well."

"Do I?" Claude answered, giving him a probing, curious look. "'Cause last time I looked in the mirror, I couldn't tell much of a difference."

Gabriel laughed a little harder this time. "Well, I mean as far as I could tell. You know, the way my mind's eye kinda fills in what doesn't visually appear. There's just something about it. You look healthy, in fact probably the healthiest I've ever seen you. Not to mention, you look . . . how should I say it? _Coiffed._" This time, Claude laughed. "What's going on? Someone in on your secret?"

"I got meself a flat."

"A flat what?"

Claude just laughed really hard at that, nearly choking on a bite of bread. Meanwhile, Gabriel went through his mental dictionary until he found a definition that made sense. "Oh, you mean an _apartement._"

"Just say 'flat.' It's three less syllables." Claude snickered again. "'Flat what.' That's got to be the second most ridiculous misunderstanding to Brit slang I've heard."

"What's the first?"

Claude shook his head. "It's not really appropriate, especially while we're eating."

"Oh. But how did you get an apartment?"

Claude's expression suddenly went serious. "You know, it's funny you say I look so well, because it wasn't too long ago that I was dying."

"You're kidding!"

"No! I went back to London, and I fell rather ill this past winter. I thought for a while it was pneumonia, but it very quickly got worse. I recognized the feeling, and I knew I was gonna die. Then some teenagers found me and, against my best wishes, nursed me back to health."

"They found you?"

"My powers weren't working. Nasty symptom of the whole disease. I never felt more exposed in all me life."

"OK, don't wanna go there."

"Good. Anyway, they happened to have abilities, and they needed help. Much like Peter, only they weren't quite as scared about blowing up the world. So, I've been staying with them. It's given me something to do, at least."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Actually, it's that kinda thing that made me think about you a bit."

"Me?"

"Yeah. It's why I sought you out. See, there's this girl who I knew years ago."

"Who is it?"

"Oh, it's no one you'd know. I mean, this was back when you were still in diapers. But she sought me out. You see, she has powers, rather destructive powers, and she said she couldn't control them. I tried, but we weren't really getting anyway, and she ended up leaving. Now, it maybe because she just saw her daddy murdered by, well, a mutual friend of ours."

"Sylar?"

"That's the one! But it did get me thinking--if she couldn't control her powers, there may be others who can't control there's, and that could be really bad."

"You saying this because of my charge? Well, unfortunately, I haven't been very successful. I even worked in the students with disabilities department at the university, but I only met one other person on the spectrum, and he doesn't have powers!"

"All the same, if I were you, I'd be watching after meself, especially in the next week."

"What's happening next week?"

"Haven't you heard? There's to be a full eclipse in a few days time. A full eclipse in just a couple of years. That doesn't happen often. It's rather unprecedented actually."

"So?"

Claude looked at him sharply. "Things happen during these kind of astonomical events. You might say," and he looked around suspiciously and lowered his voice down to a whisper, "they're a bit unpredictable."

Gabriel shook his head in disbelief. His invisible friend was striking him as paranoid.

* * *

Michael hadn't touched his coffee for several minutes. It was quite cold now. He was just sitting there, silent and shocked.

"How . . . how long will it be?" he finally asked.

"I can't say," Bennet answered. "I'm not asking you to sign up for a lifetime. You're about to go on holiday, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but only for a week. And I was going to grade papers--"

"Don't worry about stuff like that. I'll make sure everything's taken care of."

"Mr. Bennet, I . . . I can't say I'm not . . . flattered, but . . . I really don't think it's a good idea to take up your offer. I'm not . . .very physically . . . capable. I'm a bit, how you say, a clutz. I'd slow you down."

Bennet laughed. "You're worried you'd be Inspector Clouseu?"

"Well, perhaps not that bad. I'm not so much an idiot, but . . ."

"That's another thing you don't need to worry about. I can handle the action on my own. There's this place called 'Pinehearst.' I thinking I'm going to send there on assignment and report to me what you find. I don't want the Company to find out about this arrangement after all."

"There's another thing."

"And what's that?"

"I . . . I've been having nightmares about Northpoint. No matter what, I don't want to relive that. So if this Pinehearts is used as a cover to experiment on people like me--"

"You won't. I'll make sure of it."

"Can I still have time to think about it, Mr. Bennet?"

"Certainly. I won't pressure you to do anything you don't think is right. Here." He handed Michael a card with Primatech's logo and wrote a number on the back. "Call my cell when you made a decision."

"What about my son?"

"Bring him along. We may still get him involved." Noah stood and began walking out. "Thanks for the coffee."

Michael just nodded, feeling very uneasy about the whole thing.

* * *

". . . and no matter what I do, I can't get them off. I just feel them sucking the life right out of me," Gabriel explained anxiously. "The strangest part is I can't think of anything or anyone leeching off me in real life."

"He said to the pickpocket," Claude concluded.

Oh, Gabriel forgot about that! He quickly checked his pockets, then remembered he didn't bring much of anything anyway. Claude laughed again. "You're not still in that habit, are you?"

"Hey, when no one knows you exist, you have to get your livings somehow. But you're right. I'm more of a homebody now-a-days, as the Yanks say, a 'moocher.' Which is a little like a leech."

"Well, what do you think it means?"

"I'm no Freud or anything, but I know leeches were used in the Dark Ages as medicine. Doctors believed back then that they could suck diseases out of you. Maybe it's a subconscious desire for your autism to be cured."

"I don't think so," Gabriel replied cooly. "And what about what Aunt Angela said, 'Resist'? Resist what, and how?"

"You more or less have to take anything Angela Petrelli says with a tablespoon of salt. She's a tricky one."

"Oh yes! You told me you knew her! Tell me what you know about her, please!"

But before Claude could say anything, there was a sudden gust of wind, and Daphne was there. "Talking to yourself, Gabriel?" she said arrogantly.

Gabriel crossed his arms. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh sure, nothing wrong with it. It's just the first sign of madness!"

"I hate when people say that," Gabriel whispered.

"Want me to pull her hair?" Claude whispered.

"_Non, merci."_

"See, you're doing it again!" Daphne pointed out.

"What do you want?" Gabriel huffed.

"Just came by to see if you made up your mind."

"I actually came out here to think. I have quite a few options."

"I have a few more reasons why you should join us. We just recruited Mohinder. I understand you're chummy with him."

"Well, I wouldn't say 'chummy,' but he is like a hero."

"Speaking of, you said Yamagato Industries was trying to recruit you, right?"

"Uh, _oui_."

"Well, _we_ beat you to it. We recruited Hiro Nakamura."

"Really? Well, Massive Dynamics still made me a good offer. I have to think about that."

"I think we'd be better at answering some questions you may have."

"Yes, well, I'll think about that."

"And I still want you to show me around Paris sometime." A whoosh, and she was gone.

"I doubt I'd be able to keep up," Gabriel mumbled.

Claude poked Gabriel's shoulder. "There's your leech."

"What, Daphne? Are you insinuating that I--"

"No! Your job situation. It's weighing you down, like a ton of bricks! You got a bunch of opportunities here. Why don't you take 'em?"

"Because I can't. Peter doesn't want me to leave France."

"Is Peter your daddy?"

"No, just my cousin."

"Well, he's not your boss! Why are you listening to him?"

"Because he's older than me. He's knows what he's saying."

"Well, I'm older than him. I know what I'm saying, and I say, 'Go!'"

"But he may know something I don't. I mean, what if it's dangerous?"

Claude sighed. "Gabriel, how old are you?"

"19."

"I was 19 once. 19 is about being your own man, taking chances, making mistakes. You can't let a little worry about some danger scare you." Claude put his hands on Gabriel's shoulders. "You're the only one who decides your destiny, Gabriel. No one else. Start living like it." He let go and started walking away. "I better stop before I start sounding like a greeting card."

That was a bit awkward. "What happened to being a misanthrope?" He tried to catch up to Claude, but the invisible man had already disappeared in the crowd.

* * *

As evening fell, Michael was still thinking anxiously about Mr. Bennet's offer. It sounded thrilling, but should he take it? It could be too dangerous. As he pondered, he suddenly noticed he had another visitor.

"Peter! Where did you come from?"

"No time to explain," he replied darkly. "There's some things you must understand. I just realized I need to bring you along, too."

"What, 'too?' Where?"

Michael followed him to the doorway where somebody else was standing, and as he came closer, to his great confusion, the professor saw that it was also Peter! This one looked as confused as he was. It was soon cleared up as the other Peter looked at Michael, and he could see a faint scar running down the side of Peter's face. "The future," this Peter said. He took both of their hands, and they disappeared.

* * *

About the same time that evening, Gabriel was sitting back at home thinking about everything. He wondered if he should go to find Pinehearst, or if he should check out Massive Dynamics first. Oh, he just wished he knew more about either one of them!

Suddenly, everything was white and dazzling. Gabriel looked around, because he knew who was doing this. "Hanami? Where are you?"

"Gabriel," she said softly. He saw her standing alone, looking very sad.

"What's wrong, Hanami?"

"Uncle Hiro is dead. Mr. Masahashi killed him."

"_Non_!"

"Well, it hasn't happened yet. It happened when I'm from."

As he came around and looked at her closer, he understood that she was much older than she was supposed to be. "Are you from the future?"

"Yes. I came here with Peter. I've been trying to change things back to how they were. He's better at it than I am."

"Why do you wanna change things?"

"Because then they won't change!"

"I don't understand."

"I'm very worried about things, Gabriel. Some good things happened, but a lot of bad things are coming about, too. Everything's so confusing. You say one thing. Gam says another. Peter says stuff that's really scary. I don't know who to listen to!"

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

"But I want to show you!"

"Can you do that?"

"I think so." She put her hands on his face, and everything got brighter and brighter until it faded into a white light.

To be continued . . .


	3. Fringes

Chapter 3: Fringes

New York City--4 Years Later

When the light faded, Gabriel found himself on a busy city sidewalk. He recognized his surroundings. "This is New York."

"That's right," Hanami nodded. "I have to take you here first to show you Peter Petrelli's thing."

"How far in the future are we?"

"Four years."

"Just four? Surely not much has changed."

* * *

"This is the future I came back to stop," future Peter explained.

"Surely not much has changed," Michael said unhopefully.

"Yeah, it looks just like today," Present Peter said.

"With one big difference," Future Peter answered. He gestured up to the air, and Michael and Peter watched as people took off and flew or running around the block at super speed.

"_Ooh la la! C'est manifique!_" Michael marveled.

* * *

"_C'est tres choette!_" (It's very cool), Gabriel said in wonder.

"It looks cool, but Mr. Peter says it's very bad."

"Why? I didn't think mankind would evolve this fast. Mohinder must be on top of the world, got his Nobel Prize and everything."

"Actually, Mr. Mohinder hides away. He's very ashamed."

"Why?"

"Something happened to him, too."

"This isn't all evolution," Future Peter continued. "Not all of them are born with abilities. Some of them were made, but most of it comes from an injection. Abilities are available to everyone, for sale if you can afford it, for grabs if your desperate enough. People call it the miracle shot."

"So what would be considered 'normal' in our time could be shortly considered 'handicapped,'" Michael observed.

"Yes, there's that, but there's something even worse. All these people with abilities are going to destroy the world."

Hanami took Gabriel to the block where Peter's mural was. "What is it?"

"Mr. Peter says it's the destruction of the world."

"That's not what it looks like. It could be any planet."

"He painted this in a Cassandra state. Mr. Masahashi probably influenced him."

"Uh, what?!"

Hanami shook her head. "Sorry, I forgot. You and Dr. Bishop developed that term. You named it after your mother."

"But . . . my mother's name is Ruth. And who's Mr. Masahashi and Dr. Bishop?"

Then, they overheard Peter's voice say, "I made terrible choices, stepped on too many butterflies."

"Hey, that's Peter right there," Gabriel pointed out. "Maybe we can ask him what this is about." He ran toward them.

"Oh, Gabe, be careful!" Hanami called to him.

Gabriel turned back and looked at her. It was one thing that Peter accidently called him "Gabe" a few times, but Hanami? Oh well, he'll ask her later. "Hey, Peter!"

Present Peter and Michael both turned to Gabriel. "Gabriel!" they yelled in unison.

"Gabe!" Future Peter yelled.

"Where did you come from?" Michael asked.

"Hanami brought me here," Gabriel said.

"I thought she would," Future Peter mumbled. He took Michael's arm. "Listen. You need to go to the Costa Verde Church of Christ and look for Gam. I don't agree with him on most things, but he can give you a lot of good reasons why this shouldn't happen." (He pointed to the street.) "Ask him about TIAS."

"TIAS? OK."

He pointed to Gabriel. "As for you--" But before he could say anything, he was shot. Michael and Gabriel both shrieked and held their ears as the gun continued to fire. Once Gabriel was certain it was over, he opened his eyes and put his hands down.

He saw Claire, looked heartlessly with a gun pointed at him.

"_Bonjour_ Claire. It's been a long time."

"Don't give me that, Bonhomme," she snarled. That made him cringe, too; if there's one thing he hated more than a shortened name, it was his last name used alone. "I'm surprised to see you out in the open like this, alone, all the way over in New York. What happened to Boston?"

"What-what do you mean?"

She cocked her gun and held it even closer to his head. "Tell me, who is in the Ghost Network?"

"Never heard of it."

"Don't play dumb! I know it's your invention! I need to know your whole buddy list."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Uh . . . uh . . ." He started to look around trying to find Hanami to get him out of here, but she was gone. He didn't see his father or present Peter around either.

"Alright, I'll ask you something else. Daphne told me she's been getting death threats, and she thinks their from your camp. Do you know anything about that?"

"What? No! I'd never kill Daphne. I may think she's a little annoying, but--"

"Oh, as I recall, you said a little bit more than that just a few days ago."

"I have no knowledge of it. That's the truth."

"Prove it!"

Gabriel was about to run out of options when he heard a strong voice in his head.

"_Gabe!" _Gabriel didn't recognize it.

"_Gabe, where did you go?" _That was another voice, female.

"_C'mon, Gabe, we don't have all day!"_

"_Over here, Gabe!"_

"_C'mon! Hurry!" _

And then, Gabriel suddenly smelled an overwhelming scent of fresh bread. He slowly walked backward and then broke into a run, following the scent and the voices to a black, non-descript car. Without thinking, he opened the front passenger door and got in.

"Well, it's about time!" The male driver sitting in the front seat had the impatient male voice that Gabriel didn't recognize. He was tall and a little pale, and he looked angry. "What are you doing all the way over in New York? We thought you were out on that protest."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, we were worried it would take forever to find you. Come on, the old man is waiting."

"The old man . . . I'm sorry, what's going on?"

The man glanced over at him and grinned. "By the way, you look good without a beard. You should shave more often."

"A . . . beard? No, really, I mean it! Who are you?"

The driver shook his head. "For crying out loud, you're just as bad as he is sometimes. Gabe, I don't know what we're gonna do with you!"

Gabriel had enough of that. "Listen, my name is Gabriel! Don't call me Gabe!"

The driver scoffed. "All this time, I thought you liked consistency."

"Huh?"

"You're the one who told us to call you Gabe, remember?" This was a different speaker. For the first time, Gabriel noticed a woman with black curls sitting in the back. "Said you didn't want to cause confusion."

"I have no idea why I would tell anyone that. I hate my shortened name, and I know no one else named Gabriel, except--"

"A serial killer," the driver finished his sentence. "Yeah, you told us about that."

"He's not a serial killer anymore, Gabe, remember?" the lady in the back said. "Your own father is close friends with him."

"I find that hard to believe," Gabriel mumbled. He finally sighed. "Listen. I'm a little behind the times. In fact, I'm four years behind. I just traveled through time, and I'm–"

"Oh, come on, Gabe, don't tell me he put you in the tank again!" the impatient driver moaned. "Is that the delusion your little experiment got you in, that you traveled in time like your Japanese friend?"

"But I did. I came from a time where abilities weren't so common. Hey, what are your abilities?"

"Believe me, I got too much going on in my head to slap on anything on top of it. Don't I keep telling you to shoot me if I ever get the miracle shot?"

"But aren't you telepaths? I just heard your voices in my head."

"Thomas just helped us connect to the Ghost Network," the lady explained. "We tried using his synesthesia, too. It worked like a charm."

Gabriel turned and looked directly behind him. The same boy he always saw sitting on the bridge at the beach was in the back with her, staring out the window. "I didn't know he had powers."

"He was your pet project," the driver said. "Don't tell me you forgot about him, too."

Gabriel had no idea how he could convince them that he was from the past, but it seems like he had a habit of being forgetful. That must be the absentmindedness of Asperger's at work. "OK, let's say I am forgetful. Could you at least tell me who you are and where we're going? Maybe it'll help."

The man sighed in frustration, but the lady moved up and looked at Gabriel. "I'm Astrid Farnsworth. This is Peter Bishop. We're going back to Massachusetts, to the lab."

Of course! These must be people from Massive Dynamics! Well, at least that answered the question about his job.

* * *

"That was close," Michael gasped as he and present Peter appeared in a deserted alley.

"Yeah," Peter nodded.

"Where'd Gabriel go?"

"I don't know. I lost him when we were getting away."

"Should I try to find him?"

"I think if Hanami brought him here, she'll take care of him."

"But Hanami doesn't have teleportation powers."

"Still, I wouldn't worry. Now, you gotta find that Gam guy, right?"

Michael nodded. "Funny name for a fellow, huh?"

"Yeah," Peter chuckled. "He said--well, I said--he's in Costa Verde, right?"

"I think so," Michael nodded.

"That might be a problem. See, Costa Verde's in California, the other side of the country. I still gotta find out what Sylar's got to do about all this. I was thinking about asking Mohinder."

"Don't worry. I'll just turn into a hawk or an eagle and fly west."

"I think that'll still take too long. Tell you what, I'll send you over there, and later I'll join you."

"You can do that?"

"Never done it before, but I can try." He put his hand on Michael's shoulder and closed his eyes.

A few seconds later, Michael found himself standing alone outside a school. He looked in amusement at the kids playing at recess. Many were flying or running in super speed. He heard one kid yell when he was found playing hide-and-seek, "No fair, you were using telekinesis!" Michael laughed out loud.

Then, he saw something that didn't make him laugh. About three or four boys were flying around one side of the playground throwing something to each other. At first, Michael just thought they were playing catch, but as he came closer he could hear them shouting to each other, "Keep away! Keep away!" He could see that they were throwing a brown bag, and just underneath them was a boy running toward them and trying to jump really high to catch the bag. Michael had been in similar situations many times, and he knew these boys were bullies.

Some of the boys flew down, and some others joined them on the ground. "What's a matter, muggle? Why can't you catch it?" Then they started pushing him around, and the way the did it made it clear that they had super strength. Other kids laughed and chanted, "Muggle! Muggle! Muggle!"

Michael had to put a stop to this somehow. He went over by the doors inside, picked up a pebble, and blew into it as it became a whistle in his hand. As he hoped, all the flying boys and everybody else started running to the door. The only one left was the boy being beaten up. Michael ran up to him. "Are you alright?"

"Uh-huh," the boy said softy as he pushed himself up.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," the boy answered again.

Michael found the lunch smashed. "Here, let me get you some money for the cafeteria. This should cover it." He pulled out a note with a big 10.

The boy took it but then said, "Uh, I haven't seen money like this before."

Michael took it back and realized he gave 10 Euros. "Oh, sorry, I think I have another one in here." He hid the 10 Euros in his billfold and changed it into 10 dollars. "Yes, here you go.

The boy smiled for the first time. "Thanks, Mr. Goodman," he said before running off. Michael was very surprised that the boy knew him. Well, maybe he confused him with someone else. Bonhomme literally means "good man," after all. It was hard to tell. Maybe he was just complimenting him for being a good man.

"What were you doing?" a voice suddenly asked him. Michael turned to see an angry recess teacher.

"I was helping a boy who was getting bullied."

"We've been trying to convince his parents to get him the miracle shot, but they refuse. There's no reason why he shouldn't. What motivation will they have now? Get off our property."

"Sorry," he mumbled, though he wasn't really sorry at all. He couldn't believe what he just saw and heard. It can't be this bad.

* * *

Claire Bennett--Morgue

Claire looked over the body of her uncle, the man she had just shot, trying to think of everything, every terrible thing, he had done to keep from crying. It was hard to believe that there was still a bit of emotion in her just lightly stirring.

Daphne interrupted her thoughts, like she usually does. "You actually did it! You killed Peter!"

"No, he's still alive." Claire replied.

"Looks plenty dead to me."

"There were two of them, this one and a younger one from the past."

Knox, who came in after Daphne, reminded them, "We have our orders. Kill Petrelli."

"Obviously easier said than done," Daphne said.

Claire looked at her probingly. "Don't you already have other plans?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought Bonhomme was going to have that rally in Boston. Weren't you gonna go protest it?"

Daphne shook her head. "No, not this time. I already let him know how I feel. If I go on about it, he may think Matt and I aren't his friends anymore."

"So, those death threats woke you up, huh?"

"That has nothing to do with it! I told you, I don't think he's involved!"

"It just so happens I saw him too, but I let him go. He denied any knowledge, which means he was either playing dumb, or he was from the past, too."

"Good thinking, Claire. I don't want you to touch him unless we have evidence."

"Get your head on straight, Claire," Knox interrupted. "The problem is, unlike you, I can die. So, I need my octane."

Daphne gasped. Claire shook her head and said wearily, "I really wish you wouldn't call her that."

"Hey, if you had my power, if you could feel the rush I get from her, you'd know exactly what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"All the same, she's a person, not a fuel tank!"

"Get me Molly so I can find her." He stared at Daphne.

Daphne shook her head. "You know I can't just do that. It's not that simple."

"It is! If you won't ask her, I will."

She stared him down. "I'm not afraid of you."

"No, but you are afraid of Peter," Claire reminded her. "She can help us find him, too. You know he won't stop, not ever, until we find him and kill him. So, make up your mind, Daphne."

* * *

The car passed a sign which read "Welcome to Cambridge, Massachusetts." Gabriel thought for a moment. He heard of Cambridge recently from somewhere. Oh yeah. "Are we going to Harvard?"

"No," Peter Bishop answered. "We're going to Oxford."

"Oh. I just saw that sign, and I thought . . . Wait a minute, Oxford's in England!"

"I know. I'm just amused as always that you don't pick up on sarcasm right away."

Gabriel stared at him. "You remind me of someone I know. Only he's--"

"--British, and usually transparent, and clearly going by a pseudonym."

"Yes. How did you know?"

"Because you told me the same thing three times before. In fact, I've met Claude Rains" (he made quote marks in the air as he his name) "a few years ago, remember? He was one of your refugees."

Gabriel sighed in frustration. This whole trip, he was trying to convince Astrid and Peter that he was from the past, but it was all a failure. He said nothing until they parked the car and followed the others down the hall of a science building. Then a woman with straight, blonde hair met them in the hall. She smiled and said, "Hey Sweetie."

Gabriel stopped in his tracks. "Uhhhhh . . . Uhhh . . ." Was she talking to him? He couldn't tell from her eye contact.

But Peter went up ahead and kissed her. "Hi, Liv," he said softly, and she giggled.

"Oh!" Gabriel said, embarrassed. "I thought . . . I wasn't sure who you were talking to."

She walked up to him and crossed her arms. "We're you actually going through with it? I know you think this is important, and I agree with you, but you have obligations!"

"Uh, what? I don't understand, Mademoiselle, uh, Viva."

"That's Mrs. Bishop to you! Don't tell me you don't remember!"

Gabriel just stammered more, feeling very embarrassed and confused.

"His mind is a bit altered," Astrid explained softly.

"We think Walter tossed him into the tank last night," Peter added.

"Good night, how many times has it been?" the woman asked. "He's been so concerned about that before."

"Well, you know him. He thinks it's completely different for the kid, maybe even good for him."

"At least, maybe he can get back to work," Astrid said.

"Yeah," the lady nodded. "Well, uh, Agent Broyles called. He has an assignment for us, Peter."

"Well, let's get on it," he answered.

"Come on, Gabe," the lady said louder and more cheerfully. "Like you always say, 'Nobel Prizes don't make themselves!'"

"Oh, yes!" he replied as he followed them into a room. Inside was the strangest laboratory Gabriel had ever seen. It didn't have very computers or chemistry equipment. In fact, it was filled with mechanisms that all looked rather old that he had never seen before. And it smelled worse than the biology lab on his campus! In the back, he even saw a cow.

"We're back!" Astrid said aloud.

"We brought him," Peter added.

It was then that Gabriel spotted one figure in a white coat, looking very intently into a microscope. The man stood and turned. He looked very old and tired, but as he saw Gabriel his face lit up, and he gave a rather eager smile as he approached the boy. He spoke very slowly with an accent Gabriel couldn't quite identify.

"There you are, my young apprentice."

* * *

"No, no way! No, we're not dragging Molly into this!"

"But Matt, we're both raising her!" Daphne argued.

"Yes, to be a normal little girl, not to be your bloodhound!"

"Matt, just this once!" Daphne argued. "We can stop Peter forever!"

"Peter Petrelli's a murder and a terrorist and–"

"And he's the villain, not me!"

"I just, I don't understand why you would risk your life when you got this beautiful baby girl waiting for you at home." He handed her their little infant Daniella, and Daphne and whispered to her. Meanwhile, Matt got her baby bottle. "This is everything to me, you, this family."

"And this is where the 'but' comes in," Daphne muttered.

"But I was a cop, and I know what it's like to have a spouse who's worried if you're ever going to come home alive. Daphne, you know there's somebody out there, who wants to–"

"Yeah, I know. I'm not scared. I can outrun them any day, Matt," she said laughing.

"Tell you what," Matt said as he put Daniella down. "We'll work out a compromise. I've been thinking that maybe I should go over to the rally."

"Matt, no! We've talked about this."

"I know, I know, but it's the only way. I can be in the thick of things, listening to all of their thoughts. Ando could help me out. Is he around?"

"I don't know. Look, Matt, it's dangerous. They know where you stand as well as I do. You won't be welcomed. I wasn't even thinking of going!"

"I'll be armed in case everything happens, but really in the end, what's the worst they can do? Probably none of them would be capable of something like this, but you know, better safe than sorry."

"And you won't hurt anyone until you're absolutely sure?"

"Of course, especially not Gabe."

"Alright, Honey." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Just look after yourself, and be careful. You can't underestimate them."

"Right, I know. You be careful, too." He turned around. "Molly! Your mother needs to talk to you!"

Molly came in hesitantly. "I think I know what you were talking about. You guys are going to be alright, are you?"

Daphne nodded, trying to look very confident. "Yeah, Sweetie, everything's going to be fine."

* * *

The Costa Verde Church of Christ was just a few blocks down. Michael walked down the sidewalk until he reached the building, his mind still reeling about what just took place. Only one door was unlocked on the side entrance. As he went in, he heard one voice singing. Michael walked toward the auditorium and saw a girl with red hair going through the pews, picking up paper, and marking all the hymnals in the dark. As she was doing her task, she sang:

Oh perfect redemption, the purchase of blood

To every believer, the promise of God.

The vilest offenders who truly obey

That moment may enter the Heavenly Way.

Michael walked in closer and saw in the faded daylight her red hair and recognized some of her features. "Harmony?"

She looked up and smiled. "Hello. So nice to see you," she said cheerfully. Then she turned away and sang the same verse again. Most people would probably think this was rather disturbing. She looked about 10 years old, and she was acting much younger, probably not even understanding what she was singing. Yet to Michael, it made sense. He knew the place she was in, and he knew better than to bother her.

So he went back into the hall and saw a man with dark hair emerge from his office. "Back already?" he asked in a surprised voice.

"Uh . . . I'm looking for Gam."

The man laughed. "Michael, you're talking to him!" He came closer and looked up and down his visitor. "I thought you lost that shirt in the fire."

"The fire?"

"When Gabriel nearly burned your house down."

Michael was shocked! Why would his son do that?

Gam sensed his bewilderment. "Why don't you step into my office?"

"OK," Michael answered softly. The man led him into his office and offered for Michael to sit down.

"I take it you're probably not the Michael Bonhomme that I know."

"Probably not. I was brought here from four years in the past."

"Ah. Good year, until around the end of course. That's when that president got elected. Even though he's done many wonderful things, he's oppressed people in ways I could never imagine. And unfortunately, the new president still does it. He just allowed society to select a new target."

"Oh," Michael nodded sadly. "So tell me, your name is really Gam?"

The man nodded. "It's what my friends call me. It's short for Gamaliel."

"Ah, Paul's teacher, from Acts!"

"That's right. You're one of the few people to remember that reference. My parents like those unsung Biblical heroes, and I carried on the tradition. My daughter's name is Virtue because that's the closest thing we have to the name of the Virtuous Woman in Proverbs 31."

Michael nodded. "I like Biblical names, too."

"Yeah, I know."

"If you don't mind me asking, I thought this was the congregation where Jack Miller preached. Where's he?"

Gam looked down. "He was a martyr, just a few years ago. While on a mission trip, he ran into a cult who killed him for not recognizing their god. Apparently, it was a common practice they did to missionaries of all faiths."

"Oh, that's terrible! I saw his daughter out there. Who took her in?"

"I did. Well, I inherited her. Her mother ran off and left her here. Harmony's progress has been pretty much at a standstill."

"And her powers?"

"They rarely manifest anymore. She just keeps singing. She's a little joy most of the time. She's cleaning up for services tonight."

"Does she know what she's saying?"

"Sometimes, I think she does, and other times I don't know. Well, God works in mysterious ways. He knows what He's doing with her." Michael sighed sadly, and Gam cocked his head. "You look like something's troubling you. What's on your mind?" So Michael told him everything that he experienced on the playground, and Gam nodded softly. "Unbelievable. People are so ashamed of who they are, who God created them to be, that they change themselves. Now, they are forcing those who are happy with the way they are to change, too. I wish I could make sense of what they're doing against us."

"What do you mean? Do you not have powers?"

"No! I'm happy with who I am, and you and I are trying to teach others to accept who they are as well. I'm not saying it's a sin, of course, but I do think it unwise that we mess with God's plan for us."

"But isn't that what evolution is? And if that boy had powers, he could have fought back!"

"Do you really think that what is happening is for the better? Was there something wrong with us before? The only thing that was really wrong was Sin. That we must change and master, but there's nothing wrong with the rest of it. If God wants to make us better than what we are, He will in His time. There's no reason for us to speed it along; after all, He said it was good. Gabriel's a good example of this, you know."

"How's that? Did my son fall away!"

Gam chuckled. "Not your son, Gabriel. Gabriel Petrelli."

"Gabriel Petrelli?"

"You haven't met him yet? That's strange. You two are very close friends. You even led him to the Church. I think there's a newspaper--oh yes, here!"

Gam pointed to a newspaper clipping on the wall which had a picture of him and a man in white clothes standing in a baptismal. There was also a smaller picture of the same man, dripping wet, holding a little boy in his arms with a big, joyous smile on his face. Michael had to come closer to see clearly who this man was, and as he recognized him, his heart filled with confusion and fear.

"Sylar?"

* * *

Matt got out of his car as he neared the protest sight. He made his way up to a bridge going through the city. Something about the sight was incredible. The street was full of people in wheelchairs, people tapping on the pavement with white canes, people with service dogs by their sides, people in leg braces, people with oxygen tanks, people with prosthetics, people with mongoloid faces, people with physical problems he had never seen before, and others who looked perfectly normal but probably had a less physical problem. All of them held signs, and when one voice in the crowd shouted, "When I am weak," the rest of them replied in one voice, "Then I am strong!" They chanted that over and over.

Matt tried to read their minds, figure out which one was plotting to kill Daphne, but he could hear nothing of the sort. In fact, all of their minds had one idea only–freedom.

"I don't suppose you brought any of your friends with you this time, have you my boy?" the eccentric doctor asked once he and Gabriel were alone in the lab.

"Uh . . . _non, monsieur._ That is, there were others with me, but we got separated somehow."

"Ah, I see. Quite the disappointment, nevertheless understandable." He glanced at Gabriel. "I am surprised that you decided to shave, especially after your reaction when Peter cut his hair."

Gabriel winced at that. He hated when people cut their hair; he couldn't recognize them after such a drastic change. Still, "I don't understand why everyone is saying I shaved. I don't like growing a beard. It makes my face itchy and hot."

"I understand. A beard can be quite cumbersome. At St. Claire's, I wasn't allowed a razor, for obvious reasons of course. Yet, I was not properly groomed, so after twenty years–"

"Doctor, uh–?"

"Bishop. Walter Bishop."

"Oh." Gabriel mumbled, "Is everybody named 'Bishop' here?"

"No, not everyone," the doctor replied overhearing him. "Just my son Peter, and my daughter-in-law Olivia, and me."

"Oh, that's what 'Liv' is short for. I thought he said 'live.'"

"It's quite alright, lad. I am also a bit absentminded and forgetful."

"But that's what I've been trying to tell you! I'm not forgetting, I just–I've been trying to tell everyone, but no one will listen. Perhaps you will understand. I know this will sound silly and unscientific, but uh . . . I came here from four years in the past."

The doctor looked up from his work and stared at the boy with intrigue. "Did you . . . do so alone?"

"_Non_, of course not!"

"Then allow me to conjecture. Your companion who brought you here is Japanese, yes?"

"That's right, monsieur."

"Female or male?"

"Female."

"Ah, and she appears in a silk kimono crafted with butterflies pigmented with every possible color of the spectrum, a figure of divinity, like an innocent angel of Heaven. Is that right?"

"_Oui_! That's it exactly."

"That must be your friend Hibachi."

"Well, actually it's Hanami. I think Hibachi is a kind of grill."

"Ah, yes. I knew it was something like that."

"This doesn't surprise you?"

"No, no! It just goes to show that the little Japanese child still is the master of the Ghost Network in ways that surpasses even my imagination."

"The Ghost Network? I've heard of it. What is it?"

"It's the manner in which you and your friends communicate. You helped me perfect it, you know."

"How?"

"You and your friends have a certain wavelength in your brain activity. The Ghost Network accesses that brain activity and transmits messages to those who can receive it. Some of your incredible abilities, though, add impressive side effects to this experience. The girls are the best at accessing it, especially the Japanese one. Though I must say, Thomas is getting rather close."

"So, that has something to do with my being here?"

"Physically, it's impossible, but through the mind, all things are possible. As Albert Einstein said, 'Imagination is more important than knowledge, for knowledge is limited but imagination embraces the world.'"

"You're saying I'm not really here? Is this like a dream?"

The doctor, instead of answering, poked Gabriel with a metal tong. The boy felt a small shock and screamed. The doctor, however, smiled. "I believe that indicates you really are here."

* * *

The vilest offenders who truly obey

That moment may enter the Heavenly Way.

That's what happened to him, the dark man who gave her his coat. He was dark because he was scary, but then he was nice. He didn't want her to cry. Then the girl with the straight yellow hair sang to her, and he cried. Why didn't he cry when he didn't want her to cry? Every time she saw him after that, he was still a scary man, but he was also a sad man. He didn't look sad, but he cried. Now, things are different. He's not a sad man or a scary man. He's always very happy, always smiling, always nice. All she knew about what changed was he went down into that pool, and he wasn't scary anymore. The preacher said he was forgiven, so he didn't have to be sad about anything bad he did, but he couldn't be scary. That's what those words meant. That's what happened to him. Still, she didn't understand how he became so different. But the preacher said the same thing could happen to others, so she was trying to help him. Helping him was fun! She liked walking through the pews, picking up pieces of paper and gum wrappers, and marking her favorite song in the hymnals. She wondered if it would happen again tonight.

Then, she heard somebody blow and make music. She turned and saw the girl with curly yellow hair, and next to her was the new dark man, the one with big eyes. She turned and smiled at them. "Hello. So nice to see you."

"Hey, Harmony!" the girl said softly, leaning down.

"Good to see you too, girlfriend," the man added. "Listen, Harmony, we know someone who wants to hear your song. You know, the one about the puppet on a string. Why don't you come with us so you can sing it to him?"

Harmony didn't want to. This man was even scarier, even though he seemed nice. Every time he was there, she felt that really bad, tight feeling that made her want to scream. But she couldn't feel it too much because he really hurts people when she does. But if she said no, he'd hurt her. So she said softly, "OK."

* * *

Michael still stared at the newspaper clippings, confused. Why would Sylar convert? Of course, it was wonderful, but it was very unexpected. Could it be a trap? And what did it mean that he was going by "Petrelli" now? The article gave the impression that the whole thing was a scandal, and it drew more on controversy regarding the preacher than it did anything else.

Michael was about to ask all of these questions, but then he remembered the one he was supposed to ask. "What is TIAS?"

"That's your ministry. It's based on 2 Corinthians 12:10—'Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.' It's directed to people with disabilities or those, like me, who do not have superbilities. It's quite ironic that your son has used this same phrase as an empowerment slogan, since Paul said it to shame . . ." Gam stopped and gazed at the door.

"Yes?" Michael said.

"It's gotten quiet out there, hasn't it?"

Michael nodded, but he didn't know what that had to do with anything until Gam jumped out of his office chair. "Harmony?! Harmony!" Suddenly, Michael heard the sound of a car speeding out and burning the pavement. Gam heard it too and ran outside as a car raced out of the parking lot. "They got her again. Come on, Mike, we gotta follow that car!"

"What's happening?"

"The Company's got her! I know what they're gonna do with her too!"

* * *

Peter watched as the gears of the broken watch floated in front of him. As he concentrated on them, the knowledge came clear about where to put them to make the watch work. He concentrated on that. Instantly, the gears fell back into their spots, and the watch started ticking again.

"You have it now," Sylar whispered. "May God have mercy on your soul."

Suddenly, the door banged open. "Knock knock," Knox said darkly. Claire followed him.

"Get out of here," Sylar whispered, but Peter shook his head.

"Daddy, what's happening?" little Noah asked.

"Noah, stay where you are, buddy." The little boy hid under a table.

"Let's not make this harder than it already is, Peter," Claire said. "Just come quietly, and we'll leave them alone."

"Don't do it, Peter. Teleport out, now" Sylar whispered.

But Peter shook his head. "I'm not leaving you."

"Then, whatever you do, don't show fear." Sylar glared at Knox. "That's right. I know your power. You get strong from fear, but I'm not afraid of you."

"I know," Knox answered. "That's why I brought my fuel." And with a sly grin, he looked to the door and gestured. A figure stepped forward and joined him.

Peter couldn't believe his eyes. "Harmony?"

"Hello, so nice to see you," she said, though she didn't sound quite as cheerful that time.

"Harmony, sweetheart, you go outside. Leave these people. They're not your friends," Sylar entreated.

"Not so fast," Knox interrupted. "The little girl's got something she wants to sing to you." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Go on, honey."

Harmony didn't like getting touched. She wiggled free from the hand on her shoulder, and she sang:

I got no strings to hold me down,

To make me fret, to make me frown.

I had strings, but now I'm free.

There are no strings on me.

Hi-ho-the-dairy-oh,

It's the only way to be.

I want the world to know

Nothing ever worries me!

"Isn't she great?" Claire said. "And she always sounds so much like she believes it."

Sylar glared at them. "Make her stop. This is madness! This is exploitation!"

"Is it ever?" Knox said. "That's not even the best part."

"You wouldn't."

But Knox grinned, walked to the nearest smoke detector, and lit a toy teddy bear lying on the floor on fire. Noah cried out upset, and then the smoke detector went off. Harmony screamed, fell down on her hands and knees, covered her ears, and started crying and rocking back and forth. As she stimmed, she sang again, this time much faster,

Hi-ho-the-dairy-oh,

It's the only way to be.

I want the world to know

NOTHING EVER WORRIES ME!

I got not strings, and I have fun.

I'm not tied up to anyone.

I had strings, but now I'm free.

THERE ARE NO STRINGS ON ME!!!

Knox smiled a devilish grin. It was about that time that Michael and Gam came on the scene. Gam grabbed the girl, but then he watched as Knox plowed into Noah. Michael watched everything in absolute horror, but he was most terrified at that look in Sylar's eyes. He was going to kill again for sure. Gam saw it, too. "Gabriel!" he yelled. "Ephesians 4:26—'Be angry, and yet do not sin'!"

"Get out of here," he whispered darkly. Michael, Gam, and Harmony started moving for the door, but then he said, "Wait! Peter, you get them out." Peter nodded uncertainly, put his hand on Michael's shoulder, closed his eyes, and the four of them disappeared. Gabriel turned his murderous gaze on Knox again. "You killed him!"

* * *

Gabriel looked over Thomas's shoulder. The young boy was sitting at a counter drawing, and all around him were several other pictures, all of the same thing–large bodies of water. No boats, no clouds, no swimmers, just a frothy, wave-crested ocean. "You're like Claude Monet," he remarked. Thomas looked at him, and suddenly, Gabriel tasted salt very strongly. Everything smelled of fish. Gabriel gasped in surprise.

"Curious sensation, isn't it?" Dr. Bishop spoke up. "Thomas is a synesthesizer, first of his kind. We were trying to make a nonverbal autistic telepathic, but this was all we could manage."

"So he can influence others' senses?"

"Is that not what I said?"

"Uh, I think so."

"Yet, he seems enamored by the ocean. Unaided, only senses connected to the experience of being near such an environment are all he produces."

"Why is that?"

"Unfortunately, we do not know. Peter hypothesizes that he has the secret desire to become a pirate." Gabriel chuckled. "Yet I find it intriguing that despite this fascination, he reacts adversely to getting wet."

"So, it's not because he likes to swim." At least, Gabriel knew now why he always saw Thomas sitting on the bridge, looking at the water.

"Yes, quite the puzzle. I knew someone at St. Claire's–"

"What is St. Claire's? Is it a hospital?"

"Of course not! It's a mental institution."

Gabriel gaped at the doctor. The old man's stony expression hadn't changed, so he assumed he wasn't joking. "You mean to tell me you're a mad scientist?"

"No! No, no, no, my lad. I'm quite even-tempered, most of the time that is."

That very literal comment gave Gabriel another idea. "Are you on the spectrum?" he whispered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you autistic?" When the doctor didn't answer, Gabriel grabbed his hand. Usually when he touched someone who had autism, they displayed some kind of mysterious glow, but nothing happened.

Dr. Bishop looked down sadly. "I have told you before many times, boy, I envy your mind." He looked into Gabriel's face with a look of amazement. "So many wonderful things happen there, all unaided by any substance." He added with a smile, "Though I'm sure they could be nicely aug–" He stopped short and looked away in shame. "Sorry."

Gabriel didn't know what he was getting at, but it didn't matter. "It's alright. I'm not often complemented in such a way. Thank you."

Then the doctor turned back to him with a look of quiet concern. His lips quivered as though he ached to say something.

"Dr. Bishop? What's the matter?"

"Mr. Bonhomme," a new voice said from across the lab. Gabriel turned and saw a very dark skinned man in a suit. For a moment, Gabriel wondered if he was that man from Haiti, but he didn't look quite the same. Mrs. Bishop was there with a sad look on her face, and next to her stood a dark-haired skinny guy in a trench coat. The dark-skinned man gestured for Gabriel to come closer, and the boy did. As soon as he was close, the man said in a low voice, "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news two days in a row, but I'm afraid all I got is some bad news, and really bad news."

"Does it matter what order I hear them in?" Gabriel asked.

"Not really," the skinny guy answered. Mrs. Bishop shushed him.

"I'm not sure if you heard about this," the dark-skinned man continued. "Coasta Verde was destroyed just a few hours ago."

"Destroyed? How could it be destroyed?"

"There was an explosion, like a nuclear bomb. We think it might be helix-related."

"So far, we've found no survivors," Mrs. Bishop added consolingly. "So, for Gam, Harmony, Claire, Noah, Gabriel, your father--it doesn't look good. I'm sorry, Gabe."

Gabe felt a little confused. He knew some of those people, but he didn't know they were in California.

"Olivia and I are going to do an investigation," the skinny guy added. "If you don't want to come, we understand."

"But it may help you find some closure," Mrs. Bishop added. "And there's a chance we might be mistaken, just like the plane crash."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," the dark-skinned man said.

"What do mean, Broyles?"

"The president has asked for him. He has declared war and is gathering an army of superbility soldiers. He specifically requested Bonhomme to be a translator for the force." He looked at Gabriel apologetically. "I'm afraid our amnesty doesn't protect you this time. This was a direct order."

"But I don't want to go! I don't want to be in the army!" Gabriel pleaded.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. We'll have a copter waiting for you outside. Meet me in 10." He turned on his heel and walked out. Mrs. Bishop and the other guy followed. Gabriel's head was spinning. Where was Hanami when he needed her?

But then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I can help you," he heard a whisper.

"How?"

"Quickly, take off your shirt! I'll get your shoes."

"How will that help me?" Gabriel asked as he pulled his hoodie off.

"They can't take you when you're in the middle of an experiment. It would destroy your mind." The doctor quickly pulled off Gabriel's shoes and socks. "Now, the pants."

Gabriel looked at him in horror. "What?!"

But the "even-tempered" doctor reacted in fury. "LISTEN! I've worked with you for three years, and I know very well what your morals are. I have learned not to test them. You must TRUST ME!"

"Alright, fine." Gabriel uncomfortably slipped off his jeans.

"Good, very good. Now, I know you don't like this, but--"

"I don't? Just what are you doing?"

"It's the only way to save you," he continued as he placed nodes around Gabriel's chest. He hastily poured liquid into a beaker. "Drink this."

"What is it?"

"I know you have a fear of needles. This is dopamine in an oral inoculation."

"Dope?!" Gabriel yelled after taking a gulp of the nasty stuff.

"No need to be alarmed. It's a natural chemical produced by the brain that stimulates creativity. Yours already makes lots; this just tops you off. There's also some numbing and sleeping agents to calm you. That's it."

With the last drop, Gabriel already felt himself go limp. "Now, when you're inside, concentrate on Hirachi–"

"Hanami?"

"Yes, her. Perhaps she will return to you."

"Inside where?"

Dr. Bishop, instead of answering put him in a metal tank full of strange water. Despite the drugs, Gabriel tensed up. "What's going on? What is this?"

"I am sorry about this, but you must understand. We have no other alternative." Gabriel watched in fear as the doctor closed the doors on him.

* * *

Matt tried to make his way through the crowd as it came to a standstill. Everyone was gathered in front of a big federal building downtown. Matt could hear a very loud, sorta distorted voice echoing at the front of the crowd, and he was making his way up to hear better. The only thing he could tell about these people's thoughts is that they were hanging on the speaker's every word.

As he came closer, he started to get snatches of the speech.

"And a hundred years ago, it was a lot worse. People like us, people like you and me, were swept under the rug. Our own families didn't want to have anything to do with us. They didn't want us to marry or have children. We were parasites to them, leeching off the privileged people's resources. Am I right?" Many cheered in an answer. "In fact, in Germany they said we were not fit to live. But over the next several decades, these same people like us showed that we did have a right to live. We have a right to exist! Do you believe it?" People cheered again. "Of course, it's not a perfect life. Nobody's life is perfect. Nobody's life can be accommodated for everything. But it's good enough. It's a life! Are we ashamed of who we are?"

"No!" many in the crowd yelled back.

"Should we be?"

"No!"

It was around then that Matt got a good look at the speaker--a young man with a scraggly beard. He wore shades and a shirt that read in big letters, "I don't want a miracle!" As he spoke, the young man signed everything. Matt knew this boy was Gabriel, but deep in his heart he couldn't believe he'd be involved in this.

"And now, these people are naive enough to think that with this miracle shot everybody else is getting that all our problems are going away. Even as we speak, this state's supreme court is deliberating whether the inoculation should be mandated by those who claim the Americans with Disabilities Act. They think they've found the universal cure for all of our ills. My friends, eugenics has begun again. We cannot allow it. We cannot let ourselves be destroyed!" More cheers. "We may have disabilities, but our abilities outweigh our deficits. Is that not true?" Cheers again. "And we won't let any superbilities wipe out our gifts. Am I right?" Cheers again.

"Thank you. Now, I know many of you heard rumors about me. I know the people who are against our stand is trying all they can to discredit me. And I will go ahead and tell you, most of those rumors are true. I am not originally a U.S. citizen. I am cousins with the president. And, yes, I do have superbilities." There were mumbles and thoughts of conclusion. "But I also want to tell you that these things do not have anything to do with what I believe! As far as my superbilities go, for instance, it's a package deal. They cannot work without my autism. I am proof that they won't wipe out all disabilities, but there is proof that some will, and that's what we've come to dispute! Am I right?" Cheers. "Will we be defined by our stigmas?"

"No!" the audience replied.

"Will we be defined by our impairments?"

"No!"

"Will we be defined by society?"

"No!"

"Who will define us?"

"We will!"

"Who will define us?"

"We will!"

"How will we–?"

But Gabriel was cut short as a streak of purple raced onto his platform. Matt tensed up as he saw Daphne standing there. A lot of boos came from the crowd, and the air was full of negative thoughts, but Matt couldn't tell if those thoughts were murderous. Daphne took the microphone for a second and said, "Will you guys shut up? I'm not even here to talk about it!" She then let go, took Gabriel aside, and whispered something in his ear. Gabriel looked shocked and said something back to her, but she shrugged.

He approached the microphone and said, "My friends, I've just been informed that . . . I have to leave. I've been given a job to do. I wish I could tell you more, but I'm afraid that's not possible. So, please, do me a favor. Washington isn't far from here, right? If this issue goes on, take it to the Supreme Court. Take it to the White House! I will be with you all in spirit, I promise. _Adieu, mes amis, adieu_."

The young man started to exit the stage, and more negative thoughts abounded. Then, Matt thought he heard a sound like thunder as Daphne left the platform.

* * *

Paris–Present Day

The phone was ringing.

It was then that Gabriel realized he was sitting on the couch next to his phone. It was still dark outside. Was he asleep? He couldn't even tell. He picked up the phone after four rings. "_Allo_?"

"Gabriel! Oh, it's good to hear your voice!"

"Papa?"

"Yes, Gabriel. I just had a strange experience. I need to tell you about it. First of all, though, I must let you know something."

"What is it?"

"I made up my mind of what we're doing for holiday break. We're going to visit America."

"What for?"

"I've been asked to do some research down there. I thought it might be a good opportunity for you to research some of your job opportunities."

"Papa, I talked to Peter on the phone recently, and he said . . ."

"Yes, son?"

He thought about telling his father Peter's warning, but he still didn't understand it. And he remembered what Claude advised him, and given all the options, that sounded more reasonable to Gabriel. "Never mind. I'll go."

"Good. I'll meet you in the morning."

* * *

Africa–Present Day

Matt was still turning around in his head the vision he just saw–his new family, Daphne dying in his arms, but most of all the rally. Something about that moment just didn't sit well with him. It didn't feel right, maybe because it messed with every preconception that he had of this group of people, but mostly because he thought it had something to do with Daphne's death. "What do I do about it? I don't want to hurt anyone, but . . . I can't let it happen either. I just need to understand everything about this."

The African guide put his hand on Matt's shoulder. "You may have your chance," he said softly. Then, he gestured to a new picture. It looked like the interior of a plane. Matt was sitting with an aquarium with the turtle in his lap, and next to him was a boy talking to him who looked like the young man at the rally, without the beard.

To be continued . . .


	4. No Strings Attached

Chapter 4: No Strings Attached

Angela Petrelli--Unknown

She came into the hallway and saw the carnage--her sons, other loved ones, even those she barely knew dead on the floor. She saw a scene from the past, a woman with tangled hair, a pale face and pale eyes, writing feverishly in a book. As Angela looked over her shoulder, the woman without looking up at her whispered, "I'm sorry. I knew it would happen. I should have told you. I tried."

She looked up and walk almost right into his dark face. "Hello, Angela," he said coldly.

"No! Impossible!" she whispered.

"Oh, it's possible. You've seen the future, and I'm afraid I can't let you go."

"No. You wouldn't. You can't!"

"I can, and I will."

She braced herself as he lifted his hand against her, but suddenly a blinding light came in between them. Angela blocked her eyes from the light when it was the most intense, and then she cautiously peered to see what was going on.

The light was coming from a girl--a girl with straight, long, dark hair, wearing a silk kimono embroidered with colorful butterflies. She was glowing a brilliant yellow, as bright as the sun. "It's OK, Mrs. Petrelli," she said.

Angela knelt down to take a closer look at her. As she peered into the child's face, she recognized a trace of familiarity. "You're . . . Kaito's granddaughter."

The girl nodded. "His power is too strong. I can't stop him, but I can keep him from hurting you. I'll stay with you so he can't hurt you."

Angela nodded. "I'd like that. I'd . . . like that." She put her arms around the girl's shoulders, but the girl felt as stiff as a china doll.

* * *

Gabriel and Michael Bonhomme--Flight from Paris to New York

"So . . . could you explain to me again what you are doing?" Gabriel asked.

"Research," his father answered.

"What kind of research?"

"Research. That's pretty much all I can say."

"It's not like research for Northpoint."

"I don't think so."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"You're your own man, Gabriel. You can check in with your friends--Peter, Mohinder, Claude."

"Actually, he's back in England."

"Oh. Well, anyhow, I trust whatever you do. Just make sure wherever you go, you always have your phone on, and keep in touch with me on a regular basis."

"Alright."

"And stay alert. Remember, New York isn't well-known for being a safe city."

"Keep my guard up. Yeah." It sounded kinda boring, what his father was suggesting. He knew he shouldn't let Peter see he's come back. No, what he needed was to continue pursuing his future. "I think I might check in with a couple of those job offerings I had. There's that one in Boston."

"Boston's not in New York, is it?"

"No, it's in . . . it's in Massachussetts. It's not far from New York, though. Then there's this place called Pinehearst."

Michael gave him a sudden, hard look.

"What's wrong, Papa?"

Michael shook his head. "Nothing. That sounds fine, Gabriel." He got up and grabbed a pillow from the above compartment. "Might as well get some sleep. We'll be hit hard by jet lag, otherwise."

"I will in a little bit. Bonsoir, Papa."

"Bonsoir, Gabriel." Michael snuggled his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. Gabriel took an opportunity to look around, and he saw something curious in a row across from him. The passanger was next to an empty seat, so Gabriel took it.

"Une tortue?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, it's a turtle."

* * *

Matt Parkman--Flight to New York

It was just like in the picture the African guy painted. The same kid who would be the head of that rally was staring into the aquarium at Matt's new reptile friend. He looked harmless enough. Matt saw him talking to the old guy across from him, and he couldn't understand why they were talking in French so well.

"What's his name?" the boy asked.

"His name? Uh, I hadn't really thought of that."

"How did you get him past Customs?"

"Wasn't easy. It took a few hours, and I had to fill out some paper work. But I had to take him with me. He was a . . . I guess a gift from a friend."

"Oh. Alright."

The kid looked so much more interested in the turtle than he did in Matt, until Matt remembered something from their conversation that he was sure would get his attention. "Did I hear that man talking to you mention Mohinder?"

"Oh, yeah," the boy answered. "I know Mohinder Suresh. I met him a little while ago. There was talk that he might win the Nobel Prize, but it didn't happen."

"Yeah, he's like my roommate." That got the kid's attention; he looked straight at him. "We share an apartment. Haven't seen him much lately."

"How come I haven't met you?"

"Well, I was out of commission for a while. It's a long story." He reached out his hand for the kid to shake. "Matt Parkman."

"_Ah, je sais ce nom! Ou l'ai-je entendu avant? Parkman . . . Parkman . . . Parkman . . ._" Matt didn't understand it. Why were the boy's thoughts in French after he spoke English so well?But there was a very strong emotion behind it, confusion and frustration.

"I'm sorry," the boy spoke up. "I just feel like I've heard your name before. I can't remember . . . oh, of course! Peter told me about you! You're that policeman who can read minds!"

'Hey, hey, keep it down!" Matt whispered.

"Oh, yes, sorry."

"You know Peter too?"

"That's right. So, did you ever catch who shot his brother?"

"No. It was more like he caught me."

"Well, who was it?"

"Peter."

"What?!"

"It was Peter. I found him snooping around, and I figured out he was the one responsible, and he sent to the middle of Africa, which is where I just came from."

"That doesn't sound like Peter."

"Well, it wasn't the Peter we knew. He had a scar across his face."

Gabriel understood. It was the Peter from the future. "It still doesn't sound like Peter."

Matt shrugged. "All I know is what I know. So what's your name?"

"Gabriel, Gabriel Goodman."

"Nice to meet you, Gabriel."

They talked for a long time. Gabriel told him some about his adventures, and Matt talked about a few of his. The kid didn't seem very dangerous. Yet Matt saw the seeds begin to grow as Gabriel talked about studying Disability Studies. At this point, he just seemed interested in it, maybe not quite as passionate as the man Matt saw in his vision. In fact, Matt mentioned his dyslexia, and Gabriel said he knew some resources that could help him with reading. Matt didn't even know about some of that stuff. About an hour later, Gabriel told him that he was going to try to get some sleep.

"Well, if you ever need any help getting around New York, here's my cell," Matt said as he wrote his number down on a card.

"_Merci, Monsieur Parkman._"

"Please, call me Matt."

"OK, Matt. Thank you."

* * *

A few hours later, the plane landed. When Michael picked their luggage up, he received notification through his cellphone about their lodging. They got a classy room at a fine New York hotel. They swung by there to put their luggage up, then Michael was informed that someone was ready to take him to his destination. He took the cab, and meanwhile Gabriel started trying to get transport to Massive Dynamics.

Pineheast looked like a very nice building, much like a hospital. It gave Michael the willies just a little bit as he thought about Northpoint. He was led into a big office, and he couldn't believe who was sitting behind the desk.

"Arthur Petrelli?"

The old man broke into a big smile. "Michael Bonhomme! Well, isn't this a surprise! I haven't seen you in twenty years, I believe. In fact, about four, five years ago, I heard you passed away."

"Yes sir. That rumor did circulate, but really I was kidnapped and made into a lab rat for the next few years. But my son told me that you were dead!"

Arthur laughed. "Yes, I was about to say, I shouldn't be one to judge. Everyone's been saying the same thing to me for several days now!"

Michael laughed with him as he came closer. "Yes, a rather unusual thing to have in common."

"Absolutely." Arthur reached out to him but stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry. Is it alright if I hugged you?"

"I . . . I rather you didn't. For now, anyway."

Arthur nodded solemnly. "I understand. I don't want to overwhelm your senses."

"I appreciate that."

"It's very good to have you here, Michael. And I am so sorry about Ruth. That was a terrible tragedy."

"Yes."

"But I am glad that you still want to be a part of this family."

"Well, that's all because of your son."

"My son? Which one?"

"Peter. He was very good to me. He saved me. He brought me back my son, my life."

Arthur, for some reason, looked very sad as he nodded. "Sounds like Peter. You know, speaking of sons, where's yours?"

"Gabriel had other obligations, I'm afraid."

"That's a pity. I've only seen him once, and that was when he was a baby."

"I'll make sure you'll get to see him before this is all over."

"I'd really appreciate that. Well, Michael, why don't we get started?"

* * *

The phone rang. "_Finalement," _Gabriel thought as he picked up. "Allo?"

"Yes, I'm calling for Gabriel Bonhomme?" a female voice answered.

"This is he."

"Hello, Gabriel. This is Nina Sharpe from Massive Dynamics. I understand you called?"

"Oh, yes! Papa and I are visiting in the States. We're in New York City right now. I was wondering if I could set up an interview while we're down here."

"Certainly. That would be delightful."

"I will need transportation"

"Of course, I'll arrange it. It would be good to meet you, face to face."

"Yes, but I do need you to understand that I'm not committing to anything. I have a couple more offers that I also must investigate."

"I understand."

"Right now, I just have a lot of questions."

"And I'll do my best to answer them. Of couse, I can't make any promises that I'll be able to answer them all."

"_L'histoire de ma vie," _(the story of my life) Gabriel thought. It didn't sound entirely encouraging. He still wasn't sure how much he saw was real and how much was real. Well, he might as well take what he can get. "Alright, thank you."

"I'll send someone down soon. _A bien tot_, Gabriel." (See you later.)

'_Oui, merci. Au revoir." _He hung up.

* * *

"Mohinder, this is Michael Bonhomme, my nephew-in-law, if there is such a term. He'll be working with us."

Michael recognized him right away. "Mohinder! You're here? Gabriel and I were just talking about you."

Mohinder smiled. "Professor Bonhomme! It's good to see you again."

He held out his hand for the professor to shake, but once Michael took it, he noticed something scaley on Mohinder's hand. Looking closer at him, Michael could see strange marks on his face. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fairly well. Don't worry, it's just a side effect from an experiment. It will be rectified soon."

"Good to see you two know each other," Arthur said. "That will make this more pleasant. Now, Michael, I'm sure you'll help Mohinder, whatever he needs."

"Of course, Arthur," Michael nodded.

"Excellent. Now, follow me. I have another surprise for you." He led Michael down a couple of hallways and stopped in front of a door. "It has come to my attention that you have gained an interest in playing the piano."

"Yes sir, that's true."

"Well, I took the liberty to get this just for you." Arthur opened the door and turned on the light. Inside was a grand piano and a comfortable bench.

"Oh, it's beautiful."

"When you and Mohinder are through, feel to come in here and play to your heart's content."

"That's very kind, Arthur."

"Well, go on. Give it a practice run. I'm sure you'll find the acoustics in here are spectacular."

Michael sat down and started playing "Claire de Lune." Arthur smiled and silently closed the door. He then walked back to Mohinder's lab, where the young scientist was watching Michael on a video screen. "That was kind of you to treat him like that," Mohinder said.

"It wasn't really for him," Arthur said coldly.

"What do you mean?"

"In an hour, I'd like you to take him out to lunch, and while you're there, slip this into his drink." He put a pill in Mohinder's hand.

"A drug?"

"Dopamine. It's a natural chemical produced by the brain to inspire creativity. Make sure you record everything he plays."

"But the way his brain works, he has plenty of dopamine. Why do we--?"

"Because he can play Beethoven and Chopin all he wants, but it won't do us any good. We need something original."

"Why?"

"Every note he plays can be given a numerical value. Therefore, any piece he plays can be translated into an equation. He could provide the missing links that we're looking for in these formulas. When he was in Northpoint, he figured so much work for us without even knowing it."

"You knew about Northpoint?"

"Of course. It was my way of making him useful."

* * *

Gabriel was waiting in the lobby. A bunch of papers were in his lap, and he flipped through them again. He did some research on the Internet, and he didn't like it. He really didn't like it. Whoever this Nina Sharpe person is, he was really going to give her an earful.

"Gabriel Bonhomme?"

Gabriel looked up and saw a man standing over him, a very dark skinned man, just like the man he saw in his dream. Gabriel's anger turned into intimidation. "_Oui, monsieur."_

"Name's Broyles. Miss Sharpe sent me to pick you up."

"_Oui, monsieur._"

"I suggest you get in the car and get comfortable. We're in for a long ride."

"Alright." Gabriel had a feeling that it was longer than he might think.

* * *

Michael played on the piano for about an hour, not really even seeming to notice that no one asked for his help. He stopped and got up to look for a break room. On the way down the hall, he heard something knocking around and then a voice call his name. He stopped and went back to the room where it was coming from, and who should he find there chained to a hospital bed but—

"Peter?"

Peter wearily smiled at him. "Am I glad to see you. I needed an ally in the worst way in a place like this."

"What are you doing here? Why are in you in chains?"

"My father put me here. All my powers are gone!"

"Gone?! How can this be?"

"My . . . it doesn't matter. We gotta stop this!"

"Stop what?"

"Everything! Dad! Pinehearst! Professor, you were in the future. You saw what's going to happen."

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Then you know why. It all starts here. We have to stop it before it starts."

"Don't worry, Peter, I'll . . . I'll take care of everything. It'll all be alright."

Peter smiled again. "I knew I could trust you."

"It's not a problem. You took care of me when I needed it. I must return the favor, yes?"

"Well, you don't need to think of it that way, but I'm glad you're willing to help."

"Of course, Peter. No problem." He left the room quickly. Noah needed to hear about all of this.

* * *

Harmony Miller--Coasta Verde, CA

She was sitting alone, singing the song. She knew it all the way through now. It was a good song that made her happy, but she still didn't know why it was a magic song. It still didn't feel magic.

"Harmony?" The good witch was there.

"You've been gone for a long time."

"Yes. A bad man is holding me back. He doesn't want me to see you, but another friend of yours is helping me sneak through."

Harmony didn't understand.

"Listen, Harmony, do you want to know how that song is magic?"

"Yes, I do."

"Come with me. I'll show you." The witch held Harmony's hand and led her out of the house.

* * *

Massive Dynamics was in such a big building. So much glass, so much white everywhere. It was so strange, so cold. Gabriel decided the moment he stepped in that he didn't like it. Nina Sharpe was older than he thought she would be, dressed in black with short red hair. Something about her added to his unease.

"So you said you had questions," she said.

As uncomfortable as he felt, Gabriel decided he'd try his best to stand his ground. "I really only have one, madame. Why did you ask for me?"

She smiled. "I think you would be a good edition to the special team we have. Of course, as I have told you, it is located at Harvard University, which is regarded by many as the best school in America, perhaps the best school in the world. We have a select number of world experts in science, linguistics, mathematics, and . . . well, justice."

"It does sound quite elite, madame, but why me?"

"Of course, if you accept this position, we'll provide transportation, room, and board. We pay you a rather handsome salary. I believe that's not what you're after, though. It's my understanding that you have an interest in winning the Nobel Prize one day. Your chances will certainly improve under our care, and we can pull a few strings to--"

"FINE!" Gabriel stood and hit the table. "I'll answer my question. I did a little research on _Les Dynamiques Massifes_." He threw down the notes in front of her. "Pharmaceuticals? Control groups? Psychological case studies?! I know what's going on. You picked my name out of a hat so I can be your little lab rat, just because I'm autistic. Well, I'm not interested. My father already went through it, and I know what it did to him. Oh, but you already knew about that, didn't you?" He pulled out one paper. "It says here Massive Dynamics provided funding and support to a research project in Oxford called Northpoint. As you Americans say, 'been there, done that.' I'm not falling for it. I'm not hiding behind a label."

Ms. Sharpe didn't loose her composure as he went on that whole diatribe. She just stared at him with interest. Then she casually stepped from behind her desk. "You want to talk labels, Gabriel? I know the labels you have for people like me. Neurologically Typical, right? How about Temporarily Able-Bodied? TAB, right?" Then before his eyes, she grabbed her arm and ripped off the skin to reveal an astounding robotic prosthetic. Gabriel stared, amazed at how natural it looked and wondered why she covered it to assert her normalcy. "Been there, done that. Now, this one question you're asking, if I understand you correctly is whether or not we consider you are a lab rat."

"No, what I asked was--"

"The answer is unequivocally yes."

Gabriel was stunned. He couldn't believe she'd say that right out.

"But what you don't understand is you'd be a lab rat even if you weren't working for us. The question you should be asking is who is testing on you."

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you ever wondered why you are autistic?"

"Non. I got it from my father. He's autistic."

"And what about him?"

"Well, I don't know about him."

"Have you ever considered that it might be from an external source?"

"Now, if you're saying it's vaccines—"

"No, but there could be something, or someone out there, who did this to you on purpose. There's not much I can tell you without clearance, but it could be that everyone in the world is part of an experiment. You especially, and not just because you're autistic. I understand you've seen some strange things from people."

"I have, but . . . it's evolution."

"Is it?"

"Well, yes! It's in Chandra Suresh's book, and his son Mohinder proved it!"

"There might be more to it than that. Now, this group we're introducing you to have only scratched the surface of what's going on. With your help, they can understand more, and maybe you can help us all out of the maze."

Gabriel stared, feeling numb all over. He still wasn't sure.

* * *

There was such a pretty bird outside, all kinds of pretty colors. As Harmony came near it, the bird didn't go "tweet tweet." It said, "Hello, so nice to see you." It sounded so happy! Harmony liked the sound of its voice and laughed.

"What are you doing here?" A big man appeared from the building. "Get out! Get outta here, you stupid kid!"

"Strom-bully?"

"Look, I don't do shows anymore. I just wanna be left alone. So get out!"

But Harmony still wanted to look at the parrot and the other toys there. Besides, this is where the good witch took her, and she was standing right behind Harmony to take care of her. But Strom-bully said a lot of things that weren't very nice, and he kept getting louder. He even pushed Harmony away from the toys and went back in. Harmony was starting to get scared, but the witch said, "It's OK. Don't be afraid."

"But Strom-bully is not nice!"

"No, he isn't. He's a very bad man, but you need to be brave. Now, go inside."

Harmony shook her head.

"He's got a lot of puppets just like Pinocchio inside."

"Pinocchio?" Harmony had to see that, so she went into the building. There was a puppet right inside that looked just like Pinocchio, only he still had strings. "Pinocchio!" Harmony reached out to touch him, and he started to dance.

Strom-bully shouted another thing that wasn't nice. "It's that stupid kid again!"

"Harmony!" She heard someone blow and make music. Harmony looked over and saw the girl with the yellow hair. She was sitting at a table with two other women with yellow hair that Harmony didn't know.

Harmony smiled. "Hello, so nice to see you." She thought if she heard the same happy sound the parrot made, she'd laugh, but she didn't.

"Harmony, you gotta leave! Go home, now!"

"What's this, Barbie?" Strom-bully said. "You know her? Let me guess, she's your bratty little sister, isn't she? Or maybe a cousin?" Strom-bully touched one of the women on the shoulder. She brushed him off.

"I swear, Doyle, I've never seen that girl in my life," the woman whispered.

"Yeah, right," Strom-bully laughed. "I guess you won't mind, then, if I got her to join our little game."

Game? Harmony liked games! Maybe they're playing Chinese Checkers or Chutes and Ladders or Candyland. Harmony wanted to play with them, but the witch stopped her. "Harmony, don't!"

"But Harmony wants to play!"

"It's not a good game they're playing. It could hurt you."

Strom-bully smiled and said in a soft, nice tone, "Come here, sweetheart." Strom-bully held up his hand, and then Harmony's leg went up and down. Then the other leg. Then her arm. It hurt! It felt like he was pulling them. Harmony wanted it to stop.

The witch held her shoulder and said in her ear, "Now, you must sing your song. Think really hard about it, and try not to move."

"But Strom--"

"Don't think about him! Think about the song!"

Harmony felt her leg go up again. She closed her eyes and thought about Pinocchio and started to sing very slowly:

"I got not strings . . . to hold me down,

To make me . . . fret . . . or . . . make me . . .frown."

As Harmony was singing, her legs didn't move as much, even though she could still feel him pulling. "Go on," the witch whispered.

"I had strings . . . but now I'm free.

There are . . . no . . . strings . . . on . . . me."

"What the heck?!" Strom-bully whispered. He moved his hand quicker. "Come on, move!"

Harmony felt like he was still tugging at her, but her feet still didn't move. "Keep singing!" the witch said.

"Hi . . . ho . . . the dairy-oh,

It's the only way to be.

I want the world to know

Nothing ever worries me!"

It became easier as Harmony sang. The more she was singing, the less she could feel the pulling at her legs, and she stayed more still. She felt warmer. She felt stronger. But then Strom-bully yelled "Stop it!" and made a snap move with his fingers. Suddenly, Harmony's lips closed and she couldn't open them. It felt like her mouth was glued together.

"Sing anyway," the witch said. "You're doing great."

So Harmony tried to sing,

"Mmm mmm mmm mmm . . . mmm . ."

Harmony's lips opened, but her teeth were still shut, but she kept singing.

"I heh huhn.

I nu tie uh . . . to anyone.

They hah strinks . . .buh you cah . . . see"

Then, Harmony's teeth came apart just as she was finishing the song.

"There are no strings on--"

But Strom-bully looked really mad, and he yelled over Harmony, "Shut up! SHUT UP!" He grabbed a shiny tube from the table. He started pushing it so that it went "click click click" over and over.

"NO!" the girl with yellow hair screamed. She jumped in front of Harmony just before the tube made a very loud "BANG!" The sound made Harmony scared, and the girl laid down in front of her, and she looked all red. Strom-bully just looked at her and smiled and laughed. But then the girl with yellow hair got up and hit him really hard, and Strom-bully fell down. "Show's over," the girl said.

"Oh, sweetie, are you OK?" One of the other women came over and hugged Harmony's shoulders. "Oh, you poor thing! Where's your mama?"

"Mom, it's OK, I know her," the girl with yellow hair said. "I can take her home."

"But what is she doing all the way out here?"

"I don't know. She probably wandered off. It was lucky she was here to help us, isn't it?" The girl sat down and looked at Harmony. "That was very brave, Harmony. I don't know what you did, but thank you."

"You did a very good job, Harmony," the witch told her. "Very, very good. I'm very proud of you."

* * *

Michael thought for a long time and even practiced what he was going to say. He was very nervous, but around the end of the day he worked up the courage to knock on the office door. "Come in," Arthur said on the other side. Michael took a deep breath and opened the door. "Oh, Michael. Come in, sit down. Is there something wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable?"

"I'd like to make a request, please," Michael answered.

"Absolutely! Whatever you wish."

"I'd like to ask that my piano be moved to this room."

Michael handed Arthur a sheet, but Arthur took one look at it and handed it back. "I'm afraid that room is already occupied."

"I know," Michael answered. He cleared his throat, took another deep breath, and said, "I saw a young man there earlier, a man I knew. A few years ago, he found me in a dark place. He showed me kindness that I had not known for years. He took care of me, brought me into his home, gave me food. More than that, he gave me back my life, my son. He made me proud to be a man again. And now I see him in a dark place himself. He's afraid and confused. I don't know what I can do to help him, but I just want to be with him, play him music, make him happy. Surely you understand. Isn't he your son?"

"It's not that I don't appreciate what Peter has done for you, but I am his father. Peter's in time-out. When he came here, he attacked me, and ever since he's been raving, going on that I'm going to destroy the world or something. I'm afraid that if you're in the room, he'll get you to think that I'm the bad guy, the villain."

"He's just confused. He thought you were dead."

"I know, but it's more than that, I think."

"Is there nothing I can do?"

"I tell you what, we'll compromise. I'll allow you to have the door open, and then Peter can hear you play. As a matter of fact, it might help everyone's morale. How about that?"

"I suppose."

"Very good. I really do appreciate your having my son's best interest at heart, but please, let me do the parenting."

"There is one other thing. Peter is . . . how can I put this? When I first met him, he . . . he could--"

"If you're referring to his powers, I'm seeing to that matter as well. Mohinder's going to try a procedure on him tomorrow. Why don't you help? Perhaps if you were there, it will help calm Peter down."

"I'd like that, sir. Thank you."

* * *

"Hello, hello, this is Hiro Nakamura."

"Hiro, thank goodness!" Gabriel cried. "Listen, I need to--"

"Sorry, but I am not available. I am on a mission for my father's honor. The fate of the world depends on my victory. But if you leave your phone number and a brief message, I will—"

"Agh," Gabriel sighed and hung up his phone. "Hiro, where are you? This is not like you."

"Frustrated?" It was that man, Broyles, who was speaking, the first time he spoke since he started driving Gabriel back.

The boy nodded. "I had another opportunity, but I can't get in touch with my friend who offered it."

"I hope you're successful."

"Successful? What? What do you mean?"

"No offence, but a young man like you doesn't have any business messing with the Pattern."

"The Pattern?"

"I don't even know what Sharpe is so insistant on contacting you. She doesn't tell me much, but she did say she got your name from a reliable source."

"So, they didn't just draw me out of a hat. They want me for a reason, don't they?"

Broyles didn't answer. It didn't occur to Gabriel until much later that they had that whole conversation for a reason too.

"Guess this means I'm going to check out Pinehearst. I'll call them tomorrow."

* * *

A man with shiny eyes took Strom-bully away. He looked at the girl with yellow hair. "You did this?"

"Actually, it was Harmony," the girl said.

"Harmony?"

"Yeah, I don't know how she did it, but she could fight his power. She was singing that song from _Pinocchio_, and she . . . I don't know. She made it come to life."

The man with shiny smiled at Harmony. "Good job."

"Hello, so nice to see you," Harmony said back.

A moment later, Harmony was riding in the car with the man with shiny eyes and the girl with yellow hair. "Harmony, you did a good job with that man," the man with the shiny eyes told her. "We're all very proud of you, and we're all amazed that you were OK. But you really shouldn't do things like that alone. It could be dangerous. Do you know your mother's worried about you?"

"Harmony's not alone. Good Witch is with Harmony."

The girl with yellow hair turned around in her seat. "Harmony, did you just talk? You just said a full sentence! And it wasn't . . . echo . . . echo-whatever."

Harmony didn't say that in her head? She didn't realize. "Harmony had to say, doesn't wanna get in trouble."

"No one's getting in trouble, Honey," the man with shiny eyes answered. "Just make sure you don't do that again without your mother's permission, OK?"

"Dad, what are you saying?" the girl with yellow hair whispered.

Then, there was a beeping noise, but it sounded like music. "Just a minute, Claire." The man with shiny eyes pulled a phone out of his pocket. "Hello? . . . So, he didn't? . . . Well, we'll take what we can get. Actually, the open door is a good sign. They trust us . . . I just really don't see how that could be possible, but I'll keep checking . . . Yes, we'll talk tomorrow. Thank you."

"Who was that, Dad?"

"Never mind."

To be continued . . .


	5. Family

Chapter 5: Family

Pinehearst

About mid morning, Michael was playing "Moonlight Sonata" much more loudly than it was supposed to be played, his foot constantly pressed on the pedal. His playing was interrupted by something much louder–banging noises and shouts. Michael got up and looked in the hallway. He started to approach Peter's room, but then Arthur met him in the hall.

"Maybe I should have you in Peter's room. He's very upset and wound up."

"I was trying to do what I could."

"I appreciate that, but it's because he's still riled up about some vision of the future. Your part in this procedure has become a lot more important. Just tell him it will be alright. This future he saw will not come to pass. I won't let it."

"And I'll tell him that he'll get his powers back, right?"

Arthur paused for a moment, but then he smiled. "That's good, Michael. That's good."

But when Peter first saw Michael, his eyes went wide with shock and confusion. Yet he shook his head and concentrated on Mohinder. "You're helping my father?"

"I prefer to think he's helping me," Mohinder calmly replied. "You metabolism is primed to accept abilities, and that makes you the ideal test subject for the new formula I need to perfect."

"Mohinder, you can't do this. You don't know where it will lead. I saw you in the future, and you said manipulating abilities was wrong. You said this was all a mistake."

Then Mohinder got into a conversation about his appearance in the future, which Michael didn't pay much attention to, until Peter looked straight at him. "YOU TELL HIM! YOU WERE THERE, TOO! YOU SAW IT!"

"I did. I did see it," Michael said softly. He went up and touched Peter's arm. "It's alright, Peter. Everything will be alright. We're going to get you your powers back."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Who are you? Whose side are you on?"

Michael tried to search for a good answer, but as he stuttered, Mohinder already pushed Peter's arm down. "Good work, professor." He started moving a syringe closer and closer to Peter's muscle.

Suddenly, the syringe flew out of Mohinder's hand. A silhouette stood at the opening of the lab. "Hello, Mohinder," a voice said coldly from the figure. Then Dr. Suresh also flew to the other side of the room.

"Sylar!" Michael whimpered. He tried to hide behind Peter, but Sylar came right toward him. He started loosening Peter's straps.

"You came back for me?" Peter asked.

"That's what brothers do, Peter–they look out for each other," Sylar answered.

"Even after I locked you up?"

"Let's get out of here."

"I don't understand," Michael whispered.

Sylar looked surprised as he glimpsed the professor. "You!" He ran over and grabbed Michael's shoulder. "Where is Gabriel? Where is your son? We need him!" Michael only screamed and looked away.

"You're scaring him!" Peter said.

"But Gabriel's the only one who–"

"Yeah, I know, but there's no reason to be rough on him."

Peter then whispered something Michael couldn't quite here. Sylar still looked surprised, but his expression softened. "You're right." He got down to Michael's level and tried to look him in the eye. "Come with us," he whispered. "We'll look out for you, too.."

But Michael let out an almost inhuman wail and turned away. Then Mohinder attacked Sylar, which made Michael's attack even worse. He covered his ears, scream louder, and started rocking back and forth.

"That's enough!" Arthur yelled as he came in. He stopped Mohinder's hand.

"Do you know who this man is? Do you have any idea how many innocent people he's killed?" Mohinder demanded.

"I do, but he's also my son, and I have been waiting for him for a long time."

Michael looked up with absolute terror. His eyes burned as tears began to blur his vision. Arthur whispered an order to the doctor. Michael continued to wail and cry until he felt a slight pinch in his arm and fell asleep.

* * *

About an hour later, Arthur forced Sylar into a serious talk. "It's time you learned the truth about your mother," Arthur said, holding out his hand to Sylar. At that moment, Arthur's cellphone rang. "Hold that thought." He pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered. "Hello? Pinehearst." After a moment, he broke into a big smile and turned away. "_Buon giorno! Come siete?_" He laughed. "_Eccellente. Molto felice di sentirio . . . Assolutamente. Rispondero a tutta la domanda che avete. Dove siete? . . . Molto buon, trasmettro un emissario voi subtio. Lo aspettero. Aspetto con impazienza di vederlo. Ciao." _He hung up and looked at Sylar. "That was your cousin."

"I have an Italian cousin?" Sylar said quietly.

"No, but he knows the language." He dialed another number. "Daphne? Have you finished the job? . . . Good. I have another one for you. There's a young man waiting at the LeMaster Hotel in New York, goes by the name of Gabriel Bonhomme. I need you to bring him here . . . No questions. Just grab him and bring him straight to me. We have an interview scheduled . . . Atta girl." He hung up. "We'll talk later," he told Sylar. He walked down the hall to a room where he heard "Fur Elise" playing loudly. He opened the door wider. "Good to see you're feeling better."

Michael stopped and looked at him earnestly. "You must move that man to another building. I'm not safe with him here."

"I'm not going to do that, Michael."

"He's tried to kill my son multiple times. He's tried to kill me! And something about hearing that he's related just . . . I can't describe it. I mean, how would you feel if you learned you had a killer in the family?"

"How would I feel? I'm his father!"

"Oh, that's right."

"But speaking of which, do you know where Peter went?"

"Peter? He's gone?"

"He ran off after his brother freed him."

"I didn't even realize."

"I'm not surprised by that. Listen, I don't want you to worry. The one you know as Sylar won't be the same man when he leaves here, I promise you. I'll show him a new way to get what he wants that doesn't involve murder."

"So, I'm safe?"

Arthur sat down on the piano bench and put his hand on Michael's shoulder. "I'm not going to let him hurt you, Michael," he whispered. "It's what Ruth would have wanted. There's no reason to be upset." He patted Michael's shoulder a few times. Raising his voice a little, he added, "I actually came with some good news, something I think will cheer you up. I just heard from your son. He's coming over right away for an interview."

"My son?" That didn't cheer him up at all.

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme–LeMaster Hotel Lobby, New York

He just made it down after he called Pinehearst, ready to wait for the promised emissary. As soon as he sat down, she was there. "Hey."

He looked up. "Daphne? What are you doing in the States?"

"This is where I work, remember?"

"Oh_, bien sur_." (Of course.)

"Listen, have you really thought this through? You told me you had other options. Have you looked at them yet?"

"Well, one of them I tried several times to call, and he won't call back. The other . . . well, I don't even want to talk about it."

"Why? What happened?"

Gabriel sighed. He didn't want to tell her what he found out, so he just said, "I messed it up."

"Look, maybe you should do some more searching. I've seen bad things happened, and the stuff they've been asking me to do is way out of my league."

"Then why don't you just quit?"

"I can't!"

"Why? What do you have to lose?"

Daphne sighed. "You have no idea. My point is maybe you shouldn't mess with this. These people are the kind you don't want to get mixed up with."

"People like you?"

"No! No, worse!"

"You've told me the contrary. Didn't you say Mohinder Suresh and Hiro Nakamura were recruited?"

"Well, yeah, but . . . it's turning them into people they're not."

"I just told, whoever I talked to, that I wanted to ask some questions. That's all. If I don't like what I hear or see, I'll leave right away."

"Immediately? You mean like 'Do not pass Go, do not collect $200'?"

"I'm not intending to play Monopoly, but _oui._"

"Great. I'll help you leave, if you want."

"Will that jeopardize your job?"

"Uh, good point. Well, come on."

Gabriel followed her outside. "So, where's your car?"

"I don't have one."

"Then how are we–?"

Daphne held out her arm. "Hold on tight!" Gabriel took her arm, and immediately she broke into a run. Everybody passed by in a blur until in just a few seconds, they stood in front the Pinehearst building. Gabriel was pale and hyperventilated as soon as they stopped. "Are you OK?"

Gabriel shook his head.

"I can't believes this frightens you. It's like a good roller coaster!"

"I don't like roller coasters," Gabriel replied softly.

"Well, I wouldn't give it up. One thing about this place," Daphne said as she led him into the lobby, "As much as I don't trust it, I can tell you this. If you're in a tight spot, these guys can get you out." Then she stopped, looked Gabriel in the face and added, "Or they can put you right back into it."

"What do you mean, 'a tight spot?'" he asked.

"You know, the kind of place you can't get out of, and no one else can help. I've been in one of those spots myself most of my life."

"Really?" He assumed it was some sort of financial situation.

"Well, the grand office is just up ahead. Good luck." She then took off again in a blur.

This place didn't look much different from Massive Dynamics. It still gave Gabriel chills, and he started to think about what Nina Sharpe said, "This one question you're asking, if I understand you correctly is whether or not we consider you are a lab rat. The answer is unequivocally yes. But what you don't understand is you'd be a lab rat even if you weren't working for us. The question you should be asking is who is testing on you." He didn't understand why he couldn't get those words out of his head, until he opened the door of the office.

A rather old man was standing in front of the desk, not sitting, standing, as though he was anticipating him. He smiled. "Gabriel. It's been a long time." That was the same voice as on the phone. Something about him made the boy uneasy. "You don't remember me. That's alright. You were so little when I last saw you. I'm your Great Uncle Arthur."

No, impossible! He's dead! He died of a heart attack! Gabriel started backing away toward the door, wondering why he couldn't say what he thought out loud.

"Come here, Gabriel. Let me hug you."

Gabriel slowly shook his head.

"It's alright. We're family."

Gabriel just shook his head again.

"No? Alright, I understand. How about a handshake, then?"

As the man extended his hand, Gabriel decided it would be rude to leave him hanging. He slowly came forward and took the hand. He recognized that feeling as the man closed onto him, that cold, slimy, pinch.

"_Vous. Vous! Vous ette la sangue! _You're the leech!"

"Gabriel–"

But even as he held the boy's hand, Gabriel started to feel woozy. He pulled it from the man's grip and ran out of the office before the leech could latch back on. As soon as he got out, he ran into someone in a lab coat. "Gabriel, it's alright."

Gabriel knew that voice. "Mohinder?"

"Mr. Pettrelli just wants to help you."

But as Gabriel looked up, he saw strange marks on Mohinder's face and hands. Leech bites? Gabriel screamed and got out of his grip. The leech and Mohinder called for Gabriel together, but the boy would not stop running.

Then, he stopped. Not that he wanted to, it felt like he ran into a force field that froze him there. He could barely see a silhouette standing in front of the bright windows holding his hand out.

"Where do you think you're going, namesake? I need to ask you something."

Gabriel screamed again. "Sylar, let me go! Let me go!"

The figure came closer so that Gabriel could see his cold, concentrating face. "Now, is that how you greet family?"

Gabriel stared at him. What was he talking about?

Sylar grinned. "Your mother's aunt and uncle are my parents. We're cousins, namesake, flesh and blood cousins. So we gotta stick together. We're family, like it or not."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Before Gabriel knew it, a glowing blue flash surrounded him, and he could get out of the invisible force field. He ran without looking back. He could hear snatches of piano music, but he didn't want to see where it was coming from. He tried to deny to himself that it was his father. Then, in one of the hallways, he bumped into someone.

"Gabriel?!" It was Peter.

"Is it true? Is it true?! Is Sylar your brother?!"

"Gabriel, I–"

"IS IT TRUE?!"

"He . . . he thinks it is. I still don't know."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!?"

"Gabriel, please! It's still news to me!" But Gabriel already started to run from him too. "Gabriel! Gabriel, help me! Help your father!"

Arthur and Mohinder joined Sylar, and all three of them watched Gabriel running on a security camera tape. "Should I go after him, Father?" Sylar asked.

"No," Arthur shook his head. "He'll be back. He'll be back."

* * *

Gabriel ran everywhere, into people, into the street. He was oblivious to the rude yells, the honking horns. The screams within blotted out all the sound. He didn't even know where to go, what to do. He was so afraid, confused, upset. It wasn't until he heard a shout that sounded familiar that he broke him out of his revelry.

"GABRIEL! COME HERE!"

Gabriel looked up and saw someone waving at him from a car, a man with horned-rimmed glasses.

"SPY!" Gabriel ran to the car.

"You look upset. Are you alright?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Yet, I cannot believe I'm saying this, but . . . I'm glad to see you."

The spy looked at the passenger side. "Meredith, get in the back. The kid and I need to talk."

A rather attractive lady got out of the front seat. As Gabriel went around to her side, she smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. Her hand was very warm! As soon as he got buckled, Gabriel told him everything. The spy only listened and nodded. When he finished, Gabriel started to cry. "I feel like, like I came right out of a nightmare."

The lady put her warm hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "It's alright, Honey. It's over now."

"No, it's not. My great uncle is still out there, still a leech, and . . . Sylar's still my cousin."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think that's true," the spy answered. "I been trying to find Sylar's file and see if he really is the Petrellis' son, but I doubt it."

"What grounds do you have?"

"I've known the Petrellis a little longer than you. I've worked with them. I definitely think that Mrs. Petrelli is stringing him along, but I don't know why Arthur's playing the same game. Whatever the situation is, I don't want you to worry anymore about Sylar. I'm gonna settle him soon."

"Well, even if you do, I'm still going to have that stigma–a killer in the family. A killer who shares my name! Guess there's only one person I can talk to about this who can settle everything."

"Peter?"

"No, I saw him. He couldn't give me a good answer."

"Your father."

"No. He never talks about the Petrellis, especially not my great aunt and uncle. It wasn't until we met Peter that he made an exception. No, I must ask Great Aunt Angela herself. I know more than one person told me I can't trust her, but what else can I do? If anyone knows they have a murderer in the family, it's the mother."

"I wouldn't say that. So many murderers and criminals start off just like normal people. We don't realize how dangerous they are until it's too late."

Gabriel stared at him. "What is normal?"

The spy chuckled. "I guess as you French people say, 'Touche,' huh? 'Cause nobody knows abnormal more than me, right?"

"No, I'm serious! What is normal?"

He smiled and shook his head. "You know what I mean. Normal! Ordinary! Never crossing the line. Productive members of soci . . " He glanced over at Gabriel who was still staring at him, and his smile faded. "You really are serious, are you? You really don't know?"

Gabriel shrugged. "You're a spy. You know everything. Tell me."

The spy looked kinda dazed as he turned back to the steering wheel. He shrugged. "Well, you know, uh, Christian, or uh, at least religious, or uh, in touch your, well, spirituality, in touch with your culture, proud of your nation, registered voter, home owner, middle class, married, 2.3 children" (he laughed a little there) "you know, a provider, a neighbor, nice guy, intelligent, sober, clean, healthy, law-abiding citizen."

"Sounds a lot like you."

He laughed again. "Hey, you think it's normal being a spy? But I tell you what, I've been in a lot of life-threatening situations, and you just made me sweat bullets there."

"It wasn't me. It's the question, wasn't it? You see, in many ways, that was a trick question. It's something I learned in disability studies. There really is no such thing as normal. It's a completely socially constructed concept. There isn't really even a French word for it. We just borrowed the English word. So, I find it interesting learning from others what they think normal is. You know, I wonder, the more we evolve, the more people get new abilities, the more our idea of normal will change as well."

"I tell you what. I'll take you to meet Angela Petrelli. Though I'll warn you, she's been out of it for a while."

* * *

The poor professor still felt tremendously uneasy. He tried to take a nap, but he didn't sleep well, and he decided there was only one thing that could calm his nerves. He cracked the door slightly, sat down at the bench, and began to play "Moonlight Sonata." Yet he barely finished the first stanza when he heard the door creak open. He hoped that it did that on its own, but someone was standing there, leaning against the doorway, the last person Michael wanted to see. He stopped playing and looked at the visitor.

"I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

"No. Go ahead. Play." Sylar said it like a command.

"Do you want me to play something else?"

"Just play. Play anything."

Michael tried to break away from his icy stare. He picked up where he left off, letting the music wash over him. Then a few stanzas later, he came to a part where he played two higher notes and two corresponding low notes. He was supposed to repeat that pattern, but before he could even move his hand toward the low end of the piano, the notes began to play. Michael snapped out of his reverie and watched in terror as the keys struck themselves. He stopped playing and looked at Sylar again.

"Go on."

"I . . . I can't, not if . . . not if that . . . if that's going to happen."

Sylar started walking toward him. "Would you rather I sit down?"

"Do you play?"

"A bit. My mother made me take lessons. I never learned this song, but I know it well enough."

So he sat on the lower end of the piano bench. Again, Michael picked up where he left off. Sylar just played along with him, and he never missed a note. A few times, Michael glanced uncomfortably toward Sylar, and Sylar always looked back coldly, making direct eye contact which cause Michael to immediately avert his gaze.

"It's Gabriel, right?" Michael asked as he played.

"Yes, though I prefer to be called Sylar."

"Yes, I know. It's just it's . . . same as my son."

"I know."

They didn't speak since they were coming on one of the most dramatic parts of the piece in the middle. Then, Sylar looked at him. "You're afraid of me."

Michael nodded. "I am."

"Why?"

"To be fair, I am a little afraid of almost everyone. But I have seen you try to kill my son more than once."

"And you usually provide an avenue for his escape."

"All the same."

"You're worried I might kill you?"

"The thought has crossed my mind."

"Don't be. I'm not going to kill you, or your son."

"You don't want our powers?"

"I do want your powers. I am starving for your powers! Yet the cost to get those powers is not worth it."

"It is a tremendous cost indeed."

"Truth be told, I don't want to be a murderer anymore. I just wish . . . there was something I could do about the hunger."

Michael took a deep breath. "I am . . . trying not to be afraid of you, even to see good and beauty in you, but it's hard. It's always hard."

"Why?" Sylar asked again. "Because I'm part of your family now?"

"Family are people who, when you go to them, they have to take you in. Robert Frost, paraphrased. I suppose there is some of that, but I have other reasons."

"And what about your son?"

"I don't know."

"He'll never stop hating me, will he?"

"He doesn't hate you! At least, he shouldn't." He glanced over as Sylar play another part, and he noticed again that the keys were being struck by themselves. "Wait, wait, wait! Stop, stop!"

"What's wrong?"

"You're still using telekinesis to play."

"What? Does that still disturb you?"

"It's not that. It's . . . when use telekinesis, all of your mental energy is concentrated on hitting this notes, right?"

"I guess so."

"That's not what music is! You need the vibration to go through your fingertips to you heart. You must feel the music, lose yourself in it!"

"Lose yourself in the music. That sounds familiar."

"Just try it. Perhaps you will find it'll take an edge off that hunger of yours." He started again, and watched as Sylar touched the keys as he played. He suddenly looked bored, probably the way he looked when forced to take piano lessons. "Why don't we try another piece? You just close your eyes and listen. Maybe then you'll see." And he segued from the final chord of "Moonlight Sonata" into "Claire de Lune." Sylar closed his eyes and slowly, very gradually, he smiled.

* * *

The car stopped outside of a small building in downtown New York. "I remember pictures of this place," Gabriel said softly. "Isn't this where Mohinder's office is now?"

"Wait here," the spy told him as he got out with the woman. Gabriel wondered what was going on, but then the spy came running out. "Gabriel, you should come in."

"What is it?"

"There's someone here who wants to meet you, someone might answer some of your questions."

"Who, Great Aunt Angela?"

"Come and see."

People were coming out with bodies on stretchers. It was kinda crazy. The first familiar face Gabriel saw was a woman. "Madame Sanders? How is Micah?"

"Oh, no it's Strauss. Tracy Strauss."

"Forgive me. I confused you with someone."

But then, someone else turned to him, someone Gabriel had only seen on TV, and extended his hand. _"Bonjour, Gabriel. Je m'appelle Nathan. Je suis votre cousin. Comment t'allez vous?_"

"Nathan Petrelli," Gabriel said in awe as he shook his hand. "It is good to see you well."

Nathan laughed. "So, I see your English is better than I thought it would be."

"OK, let me get this straight," Miss Strauss said suddenly. She pointed to the lady with warm hands. "She's the biological mother of your illegitimate daughter." Then she pointed to the spy. "And he's her adopted father."

"That sounds about right," the spy nodded.

"And that's your cousin," she added pointing to Gabriel.

"Technically, second cousin," Nathan answered for him.

"Did Suresh inject you with anything?" the spy asked.

"Yeah, a tranquilizer. Why?" Nathan replied.

"You're both going to have to come into the Company to be tested."

"What for?"

"Just . . . to be sure you're still normal." He glanced over at Gabriel uncomfortably for a second who was giving him that same questioning look. "If there is such a thing," he added. He shot a few glances around at everybody and walked off.

"So, you're working with him?" Nathan asked the lady with warm hands.

"For now."

"Gabriel." Nathan motioned with his head to walk with him Gabriel joined him, and they walked a few paces away from the rest of the group. "I was wondering if I was ever going to see you. You know, I expected to meet you about five years ago."

"Well, things came up," the boy answered. "You know how they go."

"I was actually kinda relieved. Heidi and I had our hands full with our sons. We couldn't really handle an autistic, French teenager."

"You know, I was here a little while ago. I met your brother . . . well, brothers."

"What do you mean? I only have one brother."

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

"Then somebody's lying. Anyway, why weren't you there then?"

"Long story. Listen, Gabriel, I have something for you. Just before Ma left to pick you up in France, she left something with me. She told me to give it to you when you were old enough."

"What is it?"

"Come with me. I think you're old enough now." His phone suddenly rang. "Excuse me." He walked away. Gabriel just looked at him with anticipation. What could it be?

* * *

"Now."

Sylar lightly alternated between the two keys in a quick sequence.

"Again, but half a step lower."

Sylar followed.

"Now, keep going. Very good."

Sylar still looked out of his element, but the more he played, the more he reflected pure satisfaction. Suddenly, though, he stopped. "Uh!" He blinked very hard and rubbed his eyes.

"Something the matter?"

"I don't think I can play this way. I just saw . . . well, it looked like purple triangles flying."

"You see? You're starting to get it!"

"What, that's what I'm supposed to see?"

"Your imagination is trying to connect to the music, and it produced something abstract. Once you learn this song a little more, you'll see a whole story playing out in your head."

"About flying triangles?"

Michael laughed. "Perhaps. We'll see. You know, you're not so bad a guy."

"Thank you. Coming from you, that's high praise. I just wish your son would feel the same way. I really need to talk to him."

"About what?"

"It's Mother, well, his aunt. She's in trouble, and I really think Gabriel is the only one who can save her."

"Why?"

"Well . . . he knows who's involved. He can stop it."

"His aunt? I wouldn't be too anxious."

Sylar stood up. "I'm sorry I frightened you earlier."

"It's alright. Do you mind if I call you Gabriel?"

"Won't that confuse you?"

"Do you have a middle name?"

"Gabriel's fine. This was fun. Let's do it again sometime."

"You know, perhaps you have that insatiable hunger because of your diet. Perhaps you don't know what you're hungry for. If you are interested, I know a way to feed that void in a way so that you will never hunger again."

Gabriel stared at him, but then he nodded. "I think I'd like that. For right now, I need to go. Father wanted to talk to me."

"Very well, Gabriel. Goodbye."

The man paused, realizing that he never asked the piano player his name. Finally, he just said, "Bye," and walked away. Michael thought about the newspaper clipping he saw in the future, what Gam had told him. Could this be where it all starts?

To be continued . . .


	6. Your People, My People

Chapter 6: Your People, My People

Gabriel Bonhomme and Nathan Petrelli–New York

Nathan explained to Gabriel as he led the boy into his old home, "It really was a weird thing. When your father died, Ma went off to get you, intending to bring you here to me. Just before she left, she handed this over. She told me it was our only inheritance from your mother before she passed away, and it rightfully belonged to you."

"But what is it? If it's a shepherd's staff, I already have it."

Nathan stopped and looked at Gabriel with a raised eyebrow. "Shepherd's staff?" Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know what it is. I haven't had a good look at it since I locked it away. The way Ma was talking about it, I thought it was obviously for your eyes only." He took down a picture, revealing a small safe hidden behind. Quickly, Nathan entered the combination and opened the safe. "Here you go."

He handed Gabriel a small parcel. The boy turned it around and anxiously opened up the manilla envelope. He could tell what it was just by feeling the outside, and he was right. He pulled out a book. It was a strange book with a spiral spine and pictures of roses on the cover. "It looks like a . . ." He opened the book and quickly scanned the first page, "The Diary of Ruth Cassandra Bonhomme." (Bonhomme looked like it was written over something whited out, probably her maiden name.) " 'Where you go, I will go. Where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.' Ruth 1:16. This is my mother's diary!"

"Wow. Talk about something personal."

Gabriel flipped through the pages. Every page was full of writing. A loose page fell out which had a very decent sketch that resembled a picture of Gabriel taken when he was 5. But his mother didn't live that long! Gabriel sat down and turned to the first page.

"You're gonna read that here? 'Cause, you know, I got other things I need to take care of. I need to follow up on that call I got a little while ago."

"This is very important to me. I must start reading right away. Don't worry. I'm a fast reader. But if this requires some more attention, you don't have to wait on me. I can take care of myself. I'm 19, for crying out loud."

"Alright, then. Make yourself at home. Just give me a call when you're done. I'll leave my number on the desk next to the door."

"_Merci_!" After Nathan walked out, Gabriel started reading.

* * *

_1-15_

_Another year has begun! I bought my books for my classes today, and I am so excited. The selections for our poetry class are so magical; I couldn't resist looking through them this afternoon. And I'm very anxious to hear about Shakespeare from a French perspective. But before I get to all of that, I met someone very interesting at lunch today . . . _

Suddenly, Gabriel was in a cafeteria standing in line with other university students. He looked around and saw no trace of the Petrelli study. There wasn't even a book in his hands. What was happening?

"Ooh, is that shrimp? That looks delicious."

He was standing next to a slender lady with brunette hair. From the family photos, Gabriel knew this was his mother. "Mama?" She didn't act like she heard him.

The cafeteria lady slopped some pasta onto the girl's plate. "_Merci_," the girl thanked her. She took a slice of baguette, an apple, and a glass of milk, and then started heading for the tables. Gabriel followed her as she walked over to a table with a young man sitting all alone, his head bowed. She sat down across from the lonely man. "_Salut_," she greeted. The man looked up at her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I was just praying." Gabriel knew that voice. This was his father! This is how they met!

His father started eating and studying, never looking up. "I'm Ruth," the girl said.

"Michael."

"Pleased to meet you, Mike."

"MICHAEL!"

"Oh, Michael. I'm sorry."

"Well, I am my father's son," Gabriel thought.

"So, what are you studying?" the girl asked.

"Literature."

"Oh, that's what I'm studying! Are you in the modern poetry class?"

He shook his head.

"I can't wait. In a matter of hours, we'll be delving into William Butler Yeats and Robert Frost and T. S. Eliot and Edith Sitwell. We'll even be making guesses about what it all means. So, what are you taking?"

"The French novel. And I'm starting my thesis on Victor Hugo."

"Wow. I haven't even thought about my thesis yet. Guess I should."

"Believe me, you should."

Gabriel suddenly shook his head. Something told him that somehow what he was seeing was completely in his mind, his imagination putting together a scenario based on what he was reading. Thinking about this brought him back to the Petrelli study. He looked back at the entry, but he could see nothing that suggested the detail in the depth that he saw it. He didn't see any dialogue, not even mention that Michael got upset when she called him Mike. Something about the life of her memory was in these words, but Gabriel didn't see it.

Well, he didn't need to see the rest of their first meeting; he was getting the idea. He flipped ahead.

* * *

_2-5_

_Wow. When I was coming out of class today, I couldn't believe who I saw . . . _

Gabriel found himself following his mother as she walked out of a classroom. She walked by a couple of classes until she was blocked by a stream of students walking out of another room. "Don't forget, we have an in-class essay next class meeting," a familiar voice announced.

"What?" Ruth said. She watched as the students exited the room, and they were shortly followed by Michael, who was carrying a big stack of papers. "Michael? I didn't know you were a teacher!"

"I'm not. I'm a graduate assistant."

"Wow, already? How old are you?"

"22."

"Well, you don't look it."

He turned to her suddenly. "I'm starting to have the impression that you're interested in me. Are you?"

Ruth gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Interested in you?"

No, no, no. This is nice and intriguing, but it was also very unimportant and unhelpful. Gabriel flipped ahead to the first place where he saw the names of the Petrellis mentioned, which was a few months later.

* * *

_5-6_

_Aunt Angela and Uncle Arthur have come back to spend the summer. I wanted them to meet Michael because if we are serious, my family need to understand about him. They need to accept him the way I did. But I'm really worried about this. I don't think Michael realized how badly it went._

Gabriel was next to Ruth who was sitting at a long table next to his father, and Great Aunt Angela and Great Uncle Arthur were sitting at the head of the table. They looked much younger, of course. The leech's hair was a dark black. Just looking at that sleek, ebony hair across the leech's face made a chill run down Gabriel's spine. But he was smiling and laughing. So was Michael.

"I must say," Michael spoke up, "This is delicious!"

"Thank you," Angela answered. "It's my mother's recipe."

"Well, I'm glad to see this is a family of good cooks."

"So, Michael," the leech said, "let me see if I understand. You're wanting to teach English literature in a French university."

"Well, sir, originally it was only French literature. I've always been interested in Victor Hugo. I liked a little Shakespeare here and there, especially King Henry V since there's that whole scene written in French. Actually, it was Ruth who introduced me to English poetry. These poems she's read me: William Butler Yeats, Robert Frost, Edith Sitwell, they are all so descriptive, so beautiful, like many of our French poets. I still have an interest in Hugo, but I want to get this a second look."

"Ambitious," the leech nodded. "Isn't it dear?"

"Mmm," Angela nodded.

"So, how long is it going to take?"

"Years, sir," Michael answered. "They give you up to ten years to write the dissertation. I don't intend for me to take it that long."

The leech laughed. In fact, there was a little bit of a laugh shared around the table. Angela, however, surveyed him critically. Ruth seemed to be the only one who noticed. Even Gabriel almost missed it.

A moment later, Ruth was washing the dishes. Great Aunt Angela came up behind her. "You don't have to go through this much trouble, dear. We have a housekeeper, and a . . . dishwasher."

"I just wanted to do something to thank you for your gracious hospitality."

"There's no need for that, especially when this was your request."

Ruth stopped her work and looked at her. "What do you think of him, Aunt Angela?"

"He's a f– . . . nice . . . intelligent, young man. But I can't help but wonder what happened to Bill."

"Bill's always at work! Besides, half the stuff he's talking about goes way over my head. At least with Michael, I have someone who shares my interest. We can have a little more conversation."

"Perhaps, but what do you know about his situation? His family? Can he support you, provide for you?"

"Aunt Angela, I'm just trying to get to know him. I'm not looking to marry him or anything!"

"This is how it starts."

"You know when I first saw him was in the cafeteria. Every time, he sat by himself, and he'd just eat and study. He looked so lonely and sad. But then again, he's not as sad as I thought he was because sometimes he had his head bowed in prayer, but he was lonely! He told me so."

"So, you pity him?"

"Aunt Angela, don't say it that way!"

"Well, what else is it, Cassie? It can't be love."

"It's something called . . . compassion?"

"That's just a longer, fancier word for 'pity.'"

"Aunt Angela . . . he wants to get serious. I haven't made up my mind about it. There's stuff he's told me that I haven't told you about yet. I think he needs me. If I fall out of the picture, who else is he going to find? It's going to be harder for him than for Bill. Bill will be better at moving on, standing for himself. If he becomes part of this family, I want him to be accepted."

Angela took a long pause and finally said, "The things you are telling me, darling, I fear you're setting yourself up for disaster. If I were you, Cassie, before I did anything rash, I would sleep on it." Then, she added with a whisper, "Incidently, that _is _what I'm going to do!" And she winked. Ruth giggled.

Gabriel couldn't believe it! His own mother didn't want to marry his father. That's not what his father told him. He kept saying she loved him every minute of every day. But then again, Gabriel never heard her side; she died so long ago. And just what did Great Aunt Angela mean calling her Cassie? Her name was Ruth! And who's this Bill? Did it even matter?

He looked up and saw Ruth talking to the leech out in the garden. "I'm sorry I had to walk out on dinner so quickly, Honey. I've been waiting to hear back from my old friend from the war, and he finally called back. So, it was an important call."

"I understand, Uncle Arthur."

He turned away from the flowers he was pruning and looked at her. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"I'm just worried. I don't think Aunt Angela likes Michael."

"Well, it doesn't matter what she thinks, does it? Nor does it matter what I think. We're not your parents, Ruth."

"Yes, but all the same, I would like it if you would accept him. If he becomes part of this family–"

"We'll welcome in with open arms, of course."

"It's not that he will, but it's a possibility."

"Absolutely. Yet, as I said, it doesn't matter what we think about him. The only thing that matters is what you think about him." So he came in closer and stared at her. "So, what do you think of Michael, Ruth?"

There was a pause, a very long uncomfortable pause as the leech looked her in the eyes, expecting an answer, and Ruth stared back. Then, suddenly, she said in a tone that suggested that it should be obvious, "I love him."

The leech smiled and put his arm on her shoulder. "Well, it's your decision to make, darling. I'll support you no matter what."

"What about Aunt Angela?"

"Don't worry. I'll talk with her."

How strange! What was that conversation about? Did something happen that changed her mind so quickly? Or was she hiding something? Gabriel felt like she knew something he was missing. He flipped over a little further to where he saw their names again.

* * *

_6-5_

_I stopped over at Aunt Angela and Uncle Arthur's to show everyone my ring. Marie, one of the housekeepers, couldn't stop talking about how lovely the opal is. Yeah, I'm a lucky girl. I just my aunt would see it that way. Oh, what she asked me today broke my heart._

Ruth was washing dishes again, and Aunt Angela came up behind her with a somber look on her face. "What is it you want, Cassie? Do you want status? Do you want a family? Do you want to be in love?"

"How could you ask me that, Aunt Angela?"

The woman came closer and turned off the faucet. "Let me show you something." She held up a folder and opened it. Gabriel could just barely see photos of a dark-haired boy. "This is a little boy named Gabriel. As small as he is, he's becoming somewhat of a problem child. His parents have requested that he be put up for adoption. Perhaps all he needs is a change of scenery, a healthy environment, a new mother. Cassie, I can arrange it very easily."

"No, no, Aunt Angela."

"Cassie, I don't need visions of the future to know what's coming if you marry this man. He won't be able to take of children. You'll be on your own. It's a mistake."

"Alright! I'll tell you!" She went to the other room, rummaged through her purse, until she pulled out her diary. And then out of the diary, she withdrew that sketch that fell out and handed it to her aunt. "The first day I met Michael, I drew this. Even though I barely knew him, I knew this day would come. I knew I would be his wife. Because I know, and I don't know how I know, but I know that this is a picture of our son." Ruth started to cry. "This is what I want. This face, it's so precious. And he's mine. And I don't care if he's autistic! He looks like an angel, a gift from Heaven."

"Yes," nodded as she looked over the sketch. Her expression did not change. "There's something missing."

"How can there be anything missing? He's perfect!"

"Something very important is missing."

"What?"

Angela looked hard at Ruth. "You."

Ruth looked back, confused. "What?"

"You're not in this picture." Angela handed it back. "If I were you, that would make me very worried."

Angela left the room. Ruth looked at the picture again, and, as her aunt's words sank in, she began bawling. She fell down on the sofa, hugged a pillow, and cried her little heart out.

A few minutes later, the leech came in. "Ruth? What's the matter, darling?"

"Aunt Angela doesn't want me to marry!"

"So?"

"She doesn't think Michael is capable, just because of his autism."

"Well, I can understand her argument. It's easy to think that marry someone with a handicap isn't wise, but–" Ruth cried harder. "Listen, sweetheart, it's just like I told you before. It doesn't matter what we think. Ruth, look at me." Ruth looked up at him and stopped for a moment. The leech took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. "Ruth, do you want to marry Michael?"

Again, there was a long, uncomfortable pause, and then she nodded. "Yes!"

"Then dry those tears. Your aunt and I aren't going to stand in your way."

"But . . . but she implied that something's going to happen. Something bad."

"Well, of course you're going to have troubles. All couples do. But your aunt and I and everyone else in your family will support you and help you out. I promise."

"Thank you, Uncle Arthur. I feel better now."

"Good."The leech smiled.

Unbelievable. It took a little while to understand what he just witnessed. That was the boy Great Aunt Angela tried to get Ruth to adopt, a dark-haired boy named Gabriel. Sylar. Her own son. Forget murder–if his mother gave into her aunt's request, Gabriel wouldn't have even existed!

He felt a little nauseous and dizzy. He put the book down for a moment. "Oh, _il est tres fonce! Quelle heure est-il?" _(It's very dark. What time is it?) Gabriel thought. He thought about getting up to get to some better light, but more questions started to bubble up in his mind. Why did she name him Gabriel, knowing this? Did she know that this boy was her cousin? Let's see, his father always told Gabriel that they didn't decide on a name until the day he was born. They both wanted a biblical name, but there were so many to choose from. He also told him that it was his mother's idea. Was she thinking of him? He had to know. He picked up the book and turned ahead to the date.

* * *

_7-23_

"He's beautiful, isn't he, Michael?"

Gabriel's father looked at his mother and the little baby in her arms with such love. "He's wonderful. Is that really our child? They didn't mix him up with another baby?"

Ruth laughed. "I don't think so. He's all ours. It's just like I dreamed it would be. It's wonderful."

"You know, we still need to think of a name. Have you made up your mind, yet? I like Luke, and Paul's good, or maybe Mephibosheth."

She laughed, knowing he was joking. "I had a name in my mind for a while now, such a beautiful name, and it's from the Bible."

"What is it, darling?"

She looked up him and smiled. "Gabriel."

Michael paused as he considered her choice.

"It's only appropriate, you know, since you're name is Michael. The name of an angel, the only two named in the Bible."

"Yes. Yes, that is the perfect name! I love it! Oh, come, let me see him." He came closer, reached out his hand to touch the baby, and his little hand closed around his finger. "Oh, my little boy, my little Gabriel."

Well, that . . . that told him nothing. Was she thinking about him? She had to have been. How else could this have happened? It could not have been coincidence! Is there anything else?

Gabriel flipped through to the later entries. The father the journal went, the more erratic it was. The writing was sloppier, like she wrote quicker. He saw lines of poetry not written neatly on the lines, scribbled sketches. When he tried to read them, he seemed to see glimpses pass by his eyes, like a slide show. He saw his mother falling off a roof (the Deveux roof?), Great Aunt Angela handing a red test tube to Miss Sharpe (?), Claude standing in the rain with a terrified expression on his face, mother lying in bed and closing her eyes for the last time, father being taken to Northpoint, the leech falling down on the floor, an explosion over New York, a multi-colored circle of light–

She saw it all? But how?

And then he read the last entry.

_I can see him. My son, my Gabriel. How beautiful you are! How I love you._

And Gabriel looked up, and he saw her standing in front of him. "I knew it! I knew it!" she said in a voice full of despair.

"Mama!" Gabriel said.

He curled into a fetal position, and she just held him. "Oh, little Gabey, little Gabey-baby." And he cried, hard. He couldn't ask her the questions that were swimming in his head. He could do nothing but be with her in this moment.

"What's the matter with you?"

Gabriel looked up. That wasn't his mother. She was a girl he'd never seen before, a girl with straight blonde hair.

"Finally reach the end of your book? Guess it didn't have a happy ending. Well, who died?"

"You can be a bit more sensitive than that, Elle," another voice said. Gabriel tensed up

The girl laughed. "Listen to you talk about sensitivity!"

"Shh!" The boy closed his eyes as the other speaker came closer. He could feel him stroke the curls on his forehead. "Gabriel, _es-tu bien?_" (Are you alright?)

He was really speaking French. Gabriel could tell he was, but how could it be? He just shook his head.

"_Quel est errone?" _(What's wrong?)

Gabriel opened his eyes wide enough to see the man that was once the dark-haired boy Aunt Angela showed his mother. "_Vous etes vraiment . . . mon homonyme_." (You really are my namesake.)

To be continued . . .


	7. The Light

Chapter 7: The Light

Gabriel Bonhomme, Elle Bishop, and Sylar–Pinehearst

Gabriel turned away, still weeping. "All this from a book?" Elle said skeptically. "And I thought it was a good read. He's been here for over an hour, even before you came in."

"I didn't even notice," Sylar said.

"Well, he was so quiet! I kept trying to talk to him, but he wouldn't take his eyes off that book. I mean really, what is it, _Romeo and Juliet?_ And why would it make a boy cry this much?"

Sylar picked up the book. "This is his mother's diary. She's dead."

"That explains a lot. Wait, how'd you know that?"

Sylar shook his head. "I don't know." He sat down next to the boy again, reaching to stroke his brow. "Gabriel--"

"_Ne me touchez pas!" _Gabriel screamed, hitting his hand back.

"Wait, his name is Gabriel, too?" Elle asked.

"Yeah," Sylar nodded. "He just told me that he was named after me."

"You're kidding! Well, what did he just say?"

"Didn't you hear? He said, 'Don't touch me.'"

"Where'd you learn French?"

Sylar gave her an odd look. "French?" He turned back to the boy. "Gabriel, _il est bien. Je ne vais pas tu blesser._" (It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you.)

"_Je ne vous crois pas!" _(I don't believe you) the boy answered.

"_Tout le monde est bien. N'ayez pas peur. Tu es sur. Gabriel, regardez-moi." _(Everything's alright. Don't be afraid. You're safe. Look at me.)

Gabriel shook his head, still turned away, but Sylar continued to make that command a couple more times. "_Regardez-moi_." He said in a soft, tender whisper. Then, Gabriel calmed down, turned toward Sylar, and opened his eyes.

"_Ou suis-je?" _(Where am I?) he whispered. For the first time, he got a good look at his surroundings. It looked nothing like Nathan's house. It was a dark, bare hallway, just a tiny bit of light above him.

"Pinehearst," Sylar replied.

"PINEHEARST?! NON!!" Gabriel got to his feet and started to run, but then he tripped. It was then he noticed that there was a chain on his ankle.

Elle ran to him first. "Are you alright?" she said slowly.

Gabriel looked up at her and Sylar standing over him. "Trapped with two of my greatest fears--a murderer and a beautiful woman. Is there a fire alarm in here? If it went off, it would truly make this a nightmare!"

"So you do speak English!"

"Yes, that is my ability. I can translate any language."

"Well, that explains it," she said looking at Sylar. "You absorbed it too!"

"Have I?" Sylar asked. "I couldn't tell."

"Yeah. You sympathized with him, and then you started talking in French."

"I thought we were speaking English."

"Trust me, it wasn't English."

"I must get out of here," Gabriel whispered. "Must leave. Must find Great Aunt Angela."

Suddenly, Sylar sat down and looked at the boy. "Gabriel, listen to me. I need your help."

"No!" Gabriel said turning away again.

"You don't understand. I don't need your power or your brain or your life. I need you!" He paused and looked away. "Actually, I'm not the one who needs you. Mother does."

"Your . . . mother?"

"Yes, Gabriel, your Great Aunt Angela. If you want to find her, you'll have to help me." He looked at the boy again. "Gabriel, she's in a coma."

"What?"

"Father put her there. Peter and I tried to wake her up. Peter used his power to go into her mind, but he was pushed out. The first thing he said was a Japanese name. I don't remember exactly what it was. He said he could see her face."

"Hanami?"

"That's it! Somehow, she's in Mother's head. She wouldn't let Peter in. But I remembered you. You were close to her. As I recall, you protected her when I tried to attack her once."

"Yes!"

"I think you could talk her out of it. You could get her out of there, and then Mother can wake up."

"But I can't get into her head! I can't read minds! What do I do, find Peter?"

"That's a good i--no, that won't work. Peter lost his powers."

"Lost his powers? How?" But Gabriel instantly knew and glared. "_La sangue."_

Sylar bristled in anger. "Don't call my father that!"

"But that's what he is, a leech! And you're a murderer!"

"I'm changing, Gabriel. I want to be a good person. Just ask your father."

"Papa! What have you done with him?"

"What can I do to make you trust me?" Sylar yelled over him. He grinned. "I know." He pointed at the boy, who froze up in fear, but all that happened was the chain on his ankle fell off, letting him go. "I'll help you escape."

"I take it you're playing the hero again," Elle said.

"Don't call me that," Sylar muttered.

"Hero?" Gabriel asked.

"You neither."

Suddenly, Gabriel's eyes lit up. "Hiro!"

"Gabriel!!"

"No, not 'hero,' Hiro! Hiro Nakamura!"

"Oh yeah. I remember him." Sylar grabbed his stomach and grimaced.

"He's her uncle. I bet he'll help somehow. Maybe he'll teleport me to Hanami. If I could only get in touch with him. I've been unsuccessful for days. Let's see, this isn't a business call, so I'll call his personal number. Maybe then I'll have more luck." He dialed.

* * *

Hiro Nakamura and Ando Masahashi–Sam's Comics, Tokyo Japan

"Yatta!" Hiro yelled as he appeared in the middle of the store.

"Hiro, how is this going to help you to remember?" Ando said in frustration. "It's a comic book store!"

"Correction, my grown-up friend," Hiro replied. "This is the source of all knowledge." He started running to the comic books when he stopped. "Ah! Ahhahaha! Something tickles!"

Ando recognized the techno music ringtone. "It's your phone! It's ringing and vibrating! Get it out of your pocket."

"I have my own phone?" Hiro pulled it out of his jeans pocket. "Who is Gabriel?"

"If you don't recognize the number, you don't have to answer it."

"OK." Hiro put the phone back in his pocket.

* * *

"Come on, Hiro, pick up! Pick up!" Gabriel growled, but he got Hiro's voicemail again. "Oh, he's impossible!"

"You can think about contacting Hiro later, then," Sylar told him. "For right now, let's get out."

"_D'accord,_" Gabriel sighed.

* * *

Michael Bonhomme–Pinehearst

He had the cover over the piano keys. He was so moved, he couldn't play. He watched the whole thing.

It was early in the morning. The older Gabriel had come to his room again to play piano like they did before. He looked like he was enjoying it more, but he still looked tired. "Don't you ever play anything cheerful? Maybe this." He started playing the bass line of a piece, but Michael only stared. Gabriel looked back. "This is where you come in."

"I don't know this piece."

"You don't?" Gabriel stopped. "It's kinda a standard for piano beginners. It's called 'Heart and Soul.'"

Michael shook his head. "Never heard of it. Of course, I am a beginner, actually. I didn't start playing piano until about three or four years ago, when they . . . forced me."

"Forced you? What do you mean?"

"I know this one." He played the first stanza of "The Entertainer." Gabriel smiled and echoed the phrase. They tried playing it, but Gabriel messed up a few times. It made them laugh a little.

"Why don't you tell me more about that mysterious diet?"

Michael gave him a surprised look, amazed that Gabriel brought it up. He wasn't really ready to talk about it yet.

"You know, the one that could satisfy my hunger forever? What is it?"

How could he put it in a way that Gabriel would accept? "Forgiveness," he said quickly.

Sylar chuckled doubtfully, trying to hide his shame. "Forgiveness?"

"Yes, I think that's what you really hunger for. Forgiveness is sweeter than honey. It can strengthen the weak soul. It can even transform into something wonderful."

"How can anyone forgive me?" Gabriel whispered.

"I understand. We live in a world that believes so strongly in karma. 'What goes around comes around,' 'Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, ' and all that stuff. Everything's symmetrical. It doesn't make sense for someone like you to be forgiven. It takes a lot of love, but it's not impossible. Someone can love you that much to forgive you freely, if you ask for it. Then if you ever hunger, it will never run out."

Before Michael could say anymore, Gabriel stood. "Sorry, I just need to think about this for a little while."

"It's alright."

A few minutes later, Arthur entered carrying a monitor. "I must say, Michael, I'm pleased with your progress. It's my understanding that you and my Gabriel are forming a bit of a bond."

"Yes. I am learning more about him."

"I thought I might show you something," Arthur said, putting the monitor on Michael's piano. "I'm working on a little experiment with Gabriel, something I think will change him. I think you ought to watch and see what happens."

And so Michael did watch. Some of it was unbearable, as Elle shocked the man so hard he disintegrated and yet somehow survived. But he was very touched at how Gabriel was changing before his eyes, especially when he told Elle, "I forgive you. Now you need to forgive yourself."

"The vilest offenders who truly obey / That moment may enter the Heavenly way," Michael sang softly as he heard that. He was so proud of Gabriel that moment. He understood, now, and he was ready. Then Michael often saw something move, and he thought it was a trick of the light. When he heard his son's voice, though, everything changed. Unfortunately, then, the screen went blank.

* * *

Mohinder Suresh–Pinehearst

The Indian doctor was just getting more and more disturbed. He was not getting any closer to the answer. Nothing was helping–not watching Michael, not the tortured test patient in his lab, not the research he was suddenly compelled to do on eclipses, nothing! Yet Mr. Petrelli made him think that the answer was in this somewhere.

Just a few hours ago, they had a talk about this. He told Mr. Petrelli, "I thought I had successfully combine my findings with yours. I mean, theoretically, this serum is sound, but the serum is forming a mutation because something is missing."

"Something?" Mr. Petrelli asked.

"Some kind of catalyst that allows the proteins of the serum to bond with the enzymes produced by each individual's adrenals."

"And what about our Piano Man. Has he not given you any clues?"

"No. I never heard him play anything original."

"Have you been doping him with dopamine?"

"Every day. We share a cup of herbal tea that I slip it in. He doesn't suspect a thing. Actually, I think it doesn't inspire him to play but to indulge in other imaginative activities. Most of the day, he stares at the wall or talks to himself."

"We've seen that behavior before. You'll just have to keep looking, Doctor."

"I'm starting to believe that even if I do watch him, he's not going to figure out this catalyst."

"And why is that?"

"Because from what I can tell, the key component of this catalyst would be something that couldn't be stored or created synthetically."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning it would live in a human host."

"So, you're saying this catalyst isn't something but someone." Mr. Petrelli looked off thoughtfully. "Kaito."

"I'm sorry?"

"My former colleague, Kaito Nakamura. He hid it, just not well enough. I think I have a hunch where I might find it, Doctor, and I'm going to start with someone in this very building."

There was something ominous about what he said, but Mohinder was just anxious for him to follow through. Time was running out for him and his patient.

* * *

"I suppose you want to get out without getting into Father's way," Sylar said to Gabriel.

"That would be ideal, yes," the boy nodded.

"I know some corridors that lead to the back. Found them when I was breaking Peter out. Just follow me."

Gabriel walked close behind Sylar, still not believing that he was putting fate into his enemy's hands. They passed by a lab. The boy saw Mohinder with more leech bites on his skin, and they looked worse. He was looking down at someone terribly disfigured, probably with worse leech bites. They walked down another narrow corridor when suddenly Sylar stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you want to see your father before you go? He's right in here."

"What is he doing here?"

Sylar shrugged. "Usually, playing the piano. He's really good."

"He told me he wanted to go to America to do research. The leech didn't bring him here, did he?"

"I don't know. I don't ask him a lot of questions."

"Well, you should! I mean, I wish you would. I wish someone would. He was taken out of my life for four years so they could lock him up and research on him. That's why he can play piano. It's a byproduct of one of their experiments! I had no idea. They told me he was dead!"

Sylar lowered his eyes. "I didn't know. He . . . he didn't really say . . . well, he did say something this morning that . . . listen, if they're doing something to him, I'll find out. And you have my word, I'll stop it."

"You'd do that?"

Sylar grinned. "They won't mess with me, not even my father."

"You won't hurt anybody."

"Of course not! I won't lay a hand on them . . . not even a telepathic one." The boy still looked skeptical, so Sylar got on his eye level. "Look, you father is my friend. He likes me, and I like him. I don't want him to be experimented on, either. I know you still don't trust me, but maybe if I do this, you will. Even if you don't, I'm doing it for him." He turned around and looked into the window. "Looks like he's asleep. Come on."

They went down to the end of the hall. "OK, just take these stairs down to the bottom. There's a doorway out there. You'll probably find Peter in a hospital."

"Why?"

"Because I kinda . . . threw him out a window."

"Well, if Peter's lost his powers–"

"He can still find a way to get you to Primatech."

"Primatech?"

"That's where Mother is. It's a paper company in Odessa, Texas. At least, that's the front."

"One thing about Peter, though, he'll be angry at me."

"Angry at you? Why?"

"Because he told me specifically not to come to the States. And . . . he was right."

"Well, if he's angry with you–"

Gabriel gasped and pointed out the window. The leech was standing right outside that door Sylar indicated. "You tricked me, didn't you? You told him what you were doing!"

"No! No! Gabriel, I'll still help. I'll distract him. Just start heading down the stairs. I'll take care of it." The boy stared at him, waiting to see what he would do, but Sylar pointed to the stairwell. "Go!"

So Gabriel very quickly took the stairs. At the bottom, he stopped to catch his breath, looked out the window, creaked the door open, and searched very slowly around the perimeter. He didn't see the leech anywhere. So, the coast was clear. Whatever Sylar did, it worked. Gabriel very carefully closed the door and walked out rather confidently.

Suddenly, Gabriel felt himself freeze. He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn't budge. "Leaving so soon?" a voice said behind him. The leech walked in front of him with a smile on his face, but Gabriel wasn't fooled.

"Let me go, _sangue!"_

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that, Gabriel. You owe me a little more respect than that."

"I owe you? I owe you?! First you try to take away my powers, then you chain me in a dark room with a murderer, and then you say I owe you! You are out of your mind! I owe you nothing! You're not family to me!"

"Why Gabriel, I'm hurt. I really am. After reading your mother's diary cover to cover, do you not understand what I mean to you?"

Gabriel didn't respond. He was sure it was a trick.

"I am the reason your parents married."

"No. It's a lie."

"It's the truth. Your mother didn't even notice how much she loved your father until we talked. She was always such an agreeable child, like a daughter to me. It was easy to make her fall head over heels, and she thought nothing of it. I even encouraged your father a little to fall for your mom."

"I don't believe it. Papa said she told him she loved him every minute of every day. It was real!"

"Of course it was. Who's saying it wasn't? It just needed a little boost, that's all."

"I didn't read anything like this in the diary. I know she had conversations where she told you she was in love, but you didn't tell her anything."

"Oh, yes I did--"

_Like this._

The leech didn't move his lips. Gabriel heard his voice boom in his head. He broke out of the leech's spell as he fell down and grabbed his head as though he was trying to block out the noise. The leech smirked and moved closer to him.

"Why?" Gabriel asked.

"Because I wanted you to be born. Your aunt told me all about you before your mother met your father. Aunt Angela has prophetic dreams, you see, and she was afraid of you. She knew about your condition and worried about the kind of person you'd become. But I was anxious, excited. I thought of all the possibilities that could come from such a bright lad as you."

"I don't understand. I'm nothing special."

"That's where you're wrong. You see, Gabriel, you have inside your soul a light, a brilliant, glowing light. It's what makes you more special than anyone I know. Do you know that light can save the lives of millions of people? That's all I want from you, Gabriel."

"You want to take it!"

"No, I want to share it. I'm asking you to pass it to me, as an Olympic runner to an unlit torch. It will still burn brightly in you, but it will have a new forerunner. So, how about it." The leech reached out his hand, but Gabriel backed away.

"No! I don't trust you."

"Please, Gabriel, I am only asking for a simple favor."

"No! If you grab on, you won't let go! You'll take everything! You'll suck me dry!"

"I would rather take it from you willingly than take it from someone who is weak and vulnerable. I might have to take it from someone close to you."

Gabriel's eyes darted around uncertainly, like he wasn't sure what to do.

"Yes, Gabriel, I'm talking about Hanami."

"Very well, then." Gabriel held out his hand. The leech reached to take it. Gabriel closed his eyes, waiting for the cold, slimy pinch.

Instead he felt a tingle and heard a "Zap" and a bunch of crackling noises. Gabriel looked up and saw Sylar and the girl there. "Leave him alone!" the girl yelled.

"This is none of your business," the leech cooly said to her.

"I don't see why the kid needs to be bothered in all of this," Sylar said.

"He has something rather unique."

"Let him take it!" Gabriel yelled.

"Whatever it is, he needs it," Sylar said. "Give him time." The leech walked closer to him, and they had a conversation Gabriel couldn't quite hear. Then, the leech walked off. Sylar came closer to Gabriel.

"You . . . saved me."

Sylar said nothing, just helped the boy up.

The boy looked up at him with just a little bit of friendliness in his eyes. "_Merci_, Sylar."

"_De nada."_

"Uh, I think that's Spanish," Elle mentioned.

"Oh, yeah," Sylar chuckled. "Sorry. How do you say 'you're welcome' to a friend?"

"'_De rien.'"_

"Well, '_de rien._'" He put his hands on Gabriel's shoulders. "I'm serious about what I said about your father. I will find out what's going on, and I'll do something. As for you, _bon voyage _and _bonne chance."_

"Um, they more or less mean the same thing."

"Oh. Um . . . OK." He left Gabriel alone outside.

* * *

Arthur dialed on his phone. "Knox? . . . Forget about that. I have another mission for you, and it's quite different . . . We're going overseas."

* * *

The boy ran around to the front. He thought he'd think of a plan, perhaps find a way to the hospital where Peter is. Then he heard somebody speak loudly, "I don't know what to believe! Nothing makes any sense! I though the man was dead!"

"Nathan!" Gabriel thought. He hid behind a wall as he listened to him talk to Miss Strauss.

"No, let's keep a lid on it."

"But people have to know!" she argued back.

"No! Last time I tried to tell anybody anything like this, my brother came from the future and shot me. Twice."

So it was Peter? It still made no sense.

Nathan started putting on a white jacket. "I'm going to Primatech, see what else my mother knows."

What luck! Gabriel ran forward. "_Pardon moi, _Nathan!"

"Gabriel? Where'd you come from?"

"Did you just say you were going to Primatech?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Can I come with you, _s'il vous plait_?"

"Come with me? What for?"

"I must speak with your mother as well. I hear that she is in trouble. I think I can help."

"Alright. Just . . ." Nathan cradled his arms.

"What's that for?"

"You'll see. Come on."

With great uncertainty, Gabriel allowed Nathan to pick him up. "Well, you weigh a lot less than Peter. But that's you French people, right. Alright, hold on tight." Nathan leapt up into the air and took off like a jet.

* * *

As Hiro purchased the _Ninth Wonders _comic book, Ando happened to spot a girl with two rainbow colored bows in her hair. Ando ran to his buddy. "Hiro! I just thought of someone who might help you remember who you are."

"Who's that?" he asked, not looking up from his comic book.

"Your niece, Hanami."

"A niece? I don't have a niece."

"Yes, you do. She's your sister Kimiko's daughter."

"Kimiko's still in school! She's not old enough to be married, let alone raise a family."

"But she does. Hiro . . . you love her even though she . . . is a disgrace."

Hiro looked up at him. "What?"

"Hanami, she . . . dishonors her family. She's _hikikomori_. Her mother is ashamed of her and won't let her go to school. That's why she let you have Yamagato Industries."

"Father always said I was the disgrace of the family. Why would my sister raise such a child?"

"Just teleport to her house. Blink and think of your sister." Ando put his hand on Hiro's shoulder. Hiro scrunched up his face, and they disappeared.

* * *

"Now, I know this is going to feel like a rush to you," Arthur explained, "but you'll have to hold back. If she becomes threatened, your power will be useless."

"So, what do you want me to do?" Knox asked.

"I want you to make her think you're on her side. In other words, I want you to be nice."

"What?"

"That will make it easier when the time comes and you need fuel. She'll have plenty to burn."

Knox smiled and nodded. Arthur knocked on the door. A lovely Japanese woman opened to them. Arthur bowed. "Greetings, Mrs. Nakamura. I'm Arthur Petrelli, an old friend of your father's. This is my associate, Knox. We'd like to see your daughter for a moment, please."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that right now," the woman answered. "My daughter is very sick."

"I know. We're here to help make her better."

"Really? You can?"

"Yes."

The woman nodded slowly. "Yes. Come in." She lead them down a hall to the back of the house. The moment the woman opened the door, Knox felt a jolt into his spirit, like a shot of caffeine. The air even felt full of energy. Mr. Petrelli just gave him one look, and Knox refrained from taking it all in, but man it was hard. "Hanami, you have visitors," the woman said in Japanese.

"_Hai_," a voice replied weakly. There was a Japanese girl lying on her bed, facing her wall.

"Hey, there sweetie," Mr. Petrelli said. "Turn around. Let me see your pretty face."

She turned on her back. She looked very tired, almost trance-like.

Mr. Petrelli just smiled. "Hello, little Hanami."

"Uh, hey, boo," Knox added, trying to work up a grin.

"Here, little one. Give me your hand."

The girl shook her head.

"Come on. Be a good girl."

The girl stared at the two of them and then slowly stretched out her hand. Mr. Petrilli reached out to take it.

Suddenly, those two Japanese guys appeared out of nowhere. Two? One of them was supposed to be dead! "You again?" Knox yelled.

"Hiro, it's the bad man who took your memory!" Ando cried.

"I don't remember him," Hiro replied.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble?" Mr. Petrelli added. He came toward Hiro. Knox took in a deep breath.

"No!" Suddenly, the room was flooded with yellow light. When it disappeared, Hiro found little Hanami, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "You won't hurt him! I won't let you hurt him!"

"Huh?" Hiro cried.

"Hiro, let's get out of here!" Ando ordered.

"Right!" Hiro blinked really hard, and they disappeared.

* * *

Gabriel had his arms pressed in hard to his chest, anything to keep warm. "You doing OK?" Nathan asked him.

"I think so. I just was not ready for this."

"We'll be there soon. I know that wind is murder, but try to think of something else."

"Alright." Think of something else. Oh, how is Hanami doing? Just think, in four years he wouldn't have to wonder. He could just think of her and find out right away. But who knows? Perhaps it wasn't that far off. Was the Ghost Network something they really constructed? He could try it.

_Hanami . . . Hanami, can you hear me? Where are you?_

Suddenly, he saw himself in a bare hallway. It was still cold. "_Allo?_" he called, listening to his echoing voice. All he saw was someone at the end of the hallway, someone sitting in a chair. He ran to her.

It was his aunt, and Hanami was sitting in her lap, covering the woman with her silk kimono.

"There you are, Hanami! Let's go!" He took her hand, but she wouldn't let go.

"No, Gabriel! I can't!" She buried her face in his aunt's hair.

"Why not?"

"He'll hurt her. I can't let her be hurt."

"Who?"

"Someone you know," Aunt Angela answered. She threw up her wrists and revealed that she was handcuffed to the chair. For a split second, her chain looked cold and slimy.

"_La sangue!_ Don't worry, I'll free you."

"It's no use, Gabriel. Not even Kaito granddaughter can free me."

"Then who will?"

"Angela!" a voice cried from the other side of the hall. "Are you OK?" Gabriel looked down and saw the last person he expected–the man from the plane. Of course, he could read minds! Why didn't Gabriel think of him?

Great Aunt Angela, however, wasn't as optimistic. "You shouldn't have come. He's too dangerous."

Matt ran down the hall to pull off her chains, but he stopped short. "Gabriel, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for Hanami."

"She your friend?"

"Sorry, Mr. Parkman," Hanami said. "I can't let you in."

"But I gotta get her out."

"Don't you understand?" Aunt Angela said. "There's no escape! Even if you get these off, Arthur has locked all of the doors."

Gabriel and Matt both tried them all until Matt found some that would open. Then another unexpected presence showed up. "Daphne? What are you doing here?" Matt said.

"Helping you out," she said coldly as she came through the open doors. She reached up and hugged him.

"No!" Hanami suddenly cried.

But it was too late. Matt screamed and fell backward crying over and over, "Daphne, don't! No. No." She stood over him with a bloody knife. Then she grinned and beckoned to Gabriel with her finger.

"Come 'ere, Frenchy."

He knew it was crazy, but he felt compelled to obey. It wasn't until Hanami held him back that he resisted her call.

Then, he saw Daphne sitting next to Matt, who had slumped over. Her demeanor had changed. "Matt, we got to get out of here now!"

But he got away from her. "Get away from me!"

"I'm here to help you!"

"No! You stabbed me!"

"That wasn't me!"

"Don't believe her, Matt," the other Daphne, still holding the bloody knife was saying. "Take it from me." Immediately, the leech was standing where she was and said, "A woman will betray you at every turn."

"You're lying!" Matt yelled as he got to his feet.

"Really? How did I know that you'd be here? She told me!"

"Leave us alone, _sangue!_ We don't care!"

But the leech ignored him. "She betrayed you, Matt, like Angela betrayed me."

"Who are you to talk about deceit? You thief! You liar!"

But Daphne and Matt looked truly shocked. "You told him?" Matt asked.

"I was afraid!" she babbled. "I thought I had to! He said he'd take it all away from me!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't go back to the way I was, Matt! But I couldn't let you die either!"

"Are you still ashamed of who you are?" Hanami asked her.

Daphne just shook her head. "I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"Didn't know what?" Matt demanded.

"How much I care about you. Matt, you're bleeding. I don't know how he's doing it, but you got to wake up or you're going to die!"

"You can't trust her, Matt. She lies," the leech said. "They all lie! Send them all away!"

"No! You won't send me away!" Gabriel yelled. "I didn't come here for him. I'll leave when I choose!" As he spoke, a blue glow started surrounding him. He heard a hum in his ears that sounded very irritating. Then the glow turned to a bright green, flooding the hallway. He looked down and realized that Hanami was holding his hand.

"Gabriel, we're here." That was Nathan. The vision suddenly faded as Nathan put the boy on the ground.

"Hanami! Where is she? Matt? Daphne? Great Aunt Angela?"

Nathan chuckled. "I think you dozed off on the way. Come on."

* * *

Hiro, Ando, and Hanami reappeared at the comic store. Hanami let go and bowed several times. "_Domo, domo_ Uncle Hiro."

Hiro grinned. "You're welcome."

"Hanami," Ando said rather loudly, "your Uncle Hiro . . . very sick. He don't . . . remember . . . good. He thinks . . . he's . . . small . . .boy." He added gestures to illustrate what he was saying.

"I'm 10! How old are you?" Hiro asked enthusiastically.

Hanami held up eight fingers.

"8? Ha ha! I'm older than you!"

"Well, of course you are! You're her uncle!" Ando said impatiently. "Don't you recognize her?"

Hiro shook his head.

"It's ok," Hanami said. "He's still my uncle. I'll help."

"That's good," Ando said. "So, we have to figure out what to do."

Hiro flipped ahead in his comic book. "Looks like we need to see Matt Parkman," Hanami said.

"Who's Matt Parkman?" Hiro and Ando said together.

"The guy right there," Hanami said pointing to a page in the back.

* * *

Sylar very quietly opened the door to Michael's room. The Piano Man was lying on the bed with his face to the wall, and he was talking to himself. "He's changing . . . You should have seen him . . . I still don't know yet . . . Yes, I'm trying . . . I don't think I'll mind it as much."

"_A qui parlez-vous?" _(Who are you talking to?) Sylar asked.

"It's a secret," Michael answered without turning to him. "Yes . . . Yes . . . I . . ."

Sylar wanted to call him by name, but he still had neglected to ask him, so he touched his shoulder. Michael turned around hesitantly. Then, Sylar saw something on his ear. "Bluetooth?"

"I have a tendency to talk to myself. Sometimes I don't realize I'm doing it, and I speak into a phone or wear one of these earpieces. So I am presented as socially acceptable."

"But it sounded like you were talking to someone, like you were on the phone."

"I'd rather not talk about it." He turned away again. "Yes, that's all I had . . . OK, tomorrow then."

"_Comment t'allez-vous?" _(How are you?) Sylar asked.

"I feel . . . energetic . . . and yet tired at the same time. It is a strange feeling."

"Are they doing anything to you?"

"I don't think so."

Sylar then spotted a blinking light above Michael's bed. He quickly sent a bolt of lightning toward the little light.

"What was that?" Michael asked.

"_Un appareil-photo_ _cache," _(a hidden camera), Sylar answered.

"Where did you learn French?"

"I have your son's power, now, but I didn't kill him."

"Like with that girl."

"How did you know about her?"

"Never mind."

Sylar shook his head. "Father . . . taught me empathy."

Michael looked at him again. "Don't lose it. Empathy's a treasure. I'm not very good with it. If you have empathy, you can be a good person. You can't be a murderer if you have empathy."

"Why?"

"Because when others hurt, you'll hurt too." He turned away once more. Sylar wasn't sure if it was working now. If what the Piano Man said was true, he wasn't hurting.

* * *

Gabriel came in and saw his great aunt on a hospital bed. Matt and Daphne stood at the foot of the bed. Peter was kissing his mother's cheek, and Claire was right behind him. Yet the boy looked around and saw someone was missing. "Where's Hanami?"

"She went home," Aunt Angela replied. "When your great uncle disappeared, she wasn't needed anymore, and she went home." She looked up at Peter. "He's alive, you're father."

"I know," he answered.

"I talked to him today," Nathan spoke up.

Aunt Angela sat up. "He's got the formula, both halves. They were supposed to be hidden away forever, but someone's stolen them right out from underneath us." Daphne looked down sheepishly.

"Formula?" Gabriel asked.

"For the miracle shot," Matt suggested.

Angela nodded. "Peter and I have both seen the future, and trust me, it's not one that any of you want to face."

"Make that three of us, and she's right," Matt added.

"Uh, four," Gabriel said, though he wasn't sure why he wouldn't want to face it. His job at Harvard didn't look all that bad.

"Arthur's probably figured out by now that there's a third piece of the formula," Aunt Angela continued. "It won't work without it."

"What kind of piece?" Peter asked.

"It's a catalyst, hidden away in the blood of a human host. Kaito Nakamura was the only one who knew of the identity of the host, and Kaito, as we know, is dead."

"So, how do we find the host?" Nathan asked.

"We don't have to!" Matt asserted. "We just have to make sure that he doesn't!"

But Claire moved away with a concentrating look on her face. "When Sylar attacked me, he saw something."

"He attacked you?!" Gabriel cried.

Claire didn't even bat an eye as she said, "He took off the top of my head. He said I was different than everyone else."

"He would say the same about me. It's what he . . . despises."

Claire shook her head. "He said I was special." She scoffed. "I didn't understand what he meant until today. I think I'm the catalyst."

"It's possible, dear," Angela said softly. "All I know is, before he hid it, before his wife passed away, she and Kaito described this catalyst as . . . a light."

She looked straight at Gabriel, and suddenly he knew exactly why Peter wanted him to stay home.

To be continued . . .


	8. When the Sun Disappeared

Chapter 8: When the Sun Disappeared

Gabriel Bonhomme and Angela Petrelli–Pinehearst, Odessa, Texas

"Claire is wrong, isn't she?"

The boy looked up at his great aunt as they sat alone in the office at Pinehearst. Here, he finally got a chance to talk to her, and now he was more troubled than ever. Now, he understood more, and all the pieces were coming together.

When she didn't answer, he continued. "She's not the catalyst. I am. That's what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it? It's what you meant when you said I had the greatest power of all. It's why the leech wants my power so badly. He told me today that he's after some light inside of me. It's that light that appears whenever I encounter someone on the spectrum, part of the circle. He told me if he didn't take it from me, he'd take it from someone more vulnerable, probably on the other end of the spectrum."

"He does want it, but it's for an entirely different reason."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you much. There's so much we don't understand about it. I can tell you it's a defense mechanism, an instinct. It protects you when you feel threatened. It stands between Arthur and your power."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it has to do with your genes. As you know, the evolution gene is somehow tied to your autism so that one cannot work with the other. So as long as your autism is not cured, you power won't go away."

"I don't understand. Isn't it permanent anyway?"

"Not as permanent as you might think."

"So . . . am I the catalyst?"

"I think it might be possible. The catalyst is something else we don't really understand, what power it has outside of the formula. The Nakamuras seemed to believe it was a great honor. Yet, my greater tendency is to believe that this is something entirely different. After all, if it were used as the catalyst, it probably wouldn't have any effect . . . except for those who are autistic."

"Well, a visitor from the future once told me that the evolutionary gene is more common on the spectrum."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"So, what should I do?"

"Well, I could give you a choice. I think I'm going to send my boys to Haiti to look for an old friend of ours. I'll send Parkman and that charming woman with him to find Hiro Nakamura. And then I'll keep Claire under the protection of her adopted father. You can go with any of them."

Gabriel thought about it for a while then answered, "I want to go with Matt. I've been trying to contact Hiro for days so that he can make good on an offer he proposed to me, but he's impossible to get a hold of."

Aunt Angela nodded. "I think that would be good. It would be beneficial if you got Kaito's granddaughter as well."

"Hanami? After she went home?"

"Well, that was her future self. I will take care of Harmony."

"You know her?"

"I've been making use of my power to connect to her dreamworld and teach her more about her defense mechanism."

"What about Papa?"

"There's no use in talking to him."

"What?!"

"Trust me, I know what I'm saying."

"And . . . Alison?"

"Off the grid. No one knows where she is."

"I suppose, if we need to join in the Circle again, I might have an alternative."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Great Aunt Angela . . ."

"You can just call me Aunt Angela. It would be easier."

"_Great _Aunt Angela, I came to see you to ask you about something I've learned, something that has upset me tremendously."

"What is it, Gabriel?"

"The man I know as Sylar . . . I heard that he . . . he said you were his . . ."

Aunt Angela nodded. "He closer to you than you realize."

"So, he is . . .?"

"My son, yes."

"And . . . and you tried to . . . get my mother to adopt him?"

"That's right."

"Your own son?!"

"You need to understand, Gabriel. I had very troubling dreams of what he was going to become. I just thought a simple change in his environment may save him. I was a fool. I fell into the same trap as Oedipus's parents. They heard the prophecy against their son and did all they could to prevent it, but it came true anyway. It was a fate that had been decided since the beginning of time."

"Then, why did Mama . . . name me after him? Didn't she know?"

"I may never understand why she chose the name 'Gabriel.' When I first heard it, I thought she was trying to get back at me. Then I thought it might have been regret; she wish she had adopted. But as time went on, I think it is just a coincidence. She forgot my son's name and named him after the Biblical character. Of course, Arthur could have had something to do with it."

"He was controlling her with his mind, wasn't he?"

She nodded. "Gabriel, I owe you an apology."

"Apology? I won't accept it until you apologize to Papa!"

"You're right. I must apologize to him as well, but as strange as it may sound, I feel as though I have more greatly wronged you. I judged you before you were born, didn't think that you were fit to live. I had many dreams about you, before you were born, all of them very upsetting. Ruth had them too. We took them apart, analyzed them, rearranged them, but every way we looked at it, it was hopeless. But now, you have exceeded my expectations, my dreams. Of course, it wasn't entirely a happy ending. Your mother died. And perhaps that was why I wronged your father so grievously in the beginning. I saw your mother kill herself in a dream. That was something I really did fear."

"Then why didn't you stop it?"

"I tried. You don't know how I tried."

"The leech got in the way?"

"That was part of it. So much, I didn't know. I remember that night. I found one of the Company's agents standing on my doorstep. He was soaked to the bone. I offered him to come in, but all he did was give me my daughter's diary. I asked him if she was alright, and he said, 'You're a smart woman. You can read, can't you?' And he had this look in his eyes that told me he didn't want to say what he saw."

"That sounds like Monsieur Rains."

"Claude Rains. Yes, that was his moniker."

"But that's not what happened. She didn't die that night. She died a month later."

"Exactly. I'm just not sure what happened between then and that night. Something did." She picked a family portrait and looked at it as if she were trying to imagine the members of her family that were missing. She shook her head. "But that's in the past, now. We must focus on today, on the present. So I suggest you find Matt Parkman and tell him you're ready to go."

"_Oui, madame." _Gabriel got up and left the room. Angela then turned, open the shutters of the window, and stared up at the sky, at the shade of the moon coming ever closer to the sun.

* * *

Michael Bonhomme–Pinehearst

Early in the morning, Sylar came back into his room. They played a few more piano pieces, then Michael stopped and looked at him. "You know, I never said how proud I am of you."

Sylar stared at him. "What did you say?"

"You've worked really hard to learn empathy and to connect with an old guy like me. You've become a completely different person. It's something I never would have expected. I am very proud of you."

Sylar looked away.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just . . . I'm not told that often. Not by my parents, not by my teachers, not by anybody."

"Someone has to say it. Someone has to recognize all you've overcome."

"But I haven't done anything."

"You don't understand how big a milestone this is. You have empathy now! Can you not see how special this is? Is this why you were . . .?"

" . . . a murderer?"

"Has no one shown empathy to you? No one was kind to you? No one . . . loved you?"

"I wouldn't say that. My mother, she loved me, but she was . . . " He inhaled through his teeth. "It's hard to explain. We had such an ordinary life, and I wanted to be extraordinary, special." He wanted to change the subject. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you. What is your . . . power?"

"My power?"

"Yeah. Is it something about piano playing? You learn classic pieces instantly and . . ."

"No, that's what they did to me at Northpoint. The power that was manifested in me is to change things into other things."

"Hmmm, that sounds like a cool one. Can I try it?"

"Be my guest."

Sylar picked up a sunflower seed on the floor. He closed his hand around it and pictured a sunflower in full bloom in his head. He even started mouthing, "Sunflower . . . sunflower . . . sunflower." But when he opened it up, it was still a seed. "I don't understand. I'm closer to you than I ever was when I absorbed your son's power."

"Perhaps something is missing. You need to understand the other person to empathize with him, you know?"

"That must be the problem. I still know nothing about you, except that you are Namesake's father. So could you . . ." But something wasn't right. Michael was staring straight ahead, disconnected from everything.

Everything had disappeared in his eyes, and all that remained was a brilliant light. "Gabriel? Where did you go?"

"It WORKED!" Michael noticed a rather elderly man in a white coat wandering around in this nothingness, laughing. "Wonderful! We actually made it! Well done, little Salami." He kissed the cheek of a Japanese woman standing next to him wearing a kimono with butterflies.

"Excuse me, what–?"

The man suddenly ran up to him and shook his hand. "Michael Bonhomme, I presume. Dr. Walter Bishop. It is a pleasure! I know your son quite well. Brilliant lad. Gary, I believe."

"Gabriel?"

"Gabriel! Yes! And I must say, your mind is pristine. I would have preferred a little more color and geometrical shapes, but to each his own."

"Your voice . . . sounds . . . familiar."

"Oh, yes, I hear that often. People in the mental institution where I used to live would tell me that all the time."

"What?!"

"Dr. Bishop!" Hanami said, warning.

"Yes, of course!" He touched Michael's arm. "I know what you desire, Bonhomme. You want Peter Petrelli–"

"Are you alright?" Sylar's voice suddenly boomed all around them.

"Shh!" Michael demanded.

"Yes, it is best not to be distracted," Walter nodded. "As I was saying, you want Peter Petrelli to get his powers back, and you also desire to save the future from the injustice you witnessed. Though this does go against everything your son believes in, we have reasoned that this is the best option. This is the answer you need. Now, I need for you to listen very closely and try to emulate the sounds you hear on your piano. We can only do this once."

"I don't unders–"

"Peter! Now!"

Suddenly, piano music filled the air all around him. It was sprightly and cheerful, and Michael had never heard it before. Even while he was in the vision, he reached over to the keys on the higher end of the piano and started playing. The more Sylar tried to gesture to him, the more Michael tried to shut him out.

* * *

Harmony Miller–Costa Verde, California

She was watching the video again. Even though she knew all the words, watching Pinocchio made her happy. Then, she felt her near.

"Harmony?"

Harmony turned around and saw the good witch again, smiling.

"I'm sorry I have been gone for so long. I'm free from the bad man now."

"Good."

"Now, Harmony, listen. I'm sending a friend of mine down to you. He may be kinda scary, but he's strong, and he'll do what's best. You know his daughter rather well. I just need for you to be there, protect them."

"'Kay."

"One more thing, Harmony. Something scary is going to happen today. The sun is going to disappear. I don't know what's going to happen when it's gone, but it might be kinda frightening. It won't be for long, and I'm very sure that you are going to be OK, so don't be too scared."

What a strange thing to say. How can the sun go away?

"Harmony!" her mother called. Harmony ran downstairs. She could hear them talking.

"How have you been doing?"

"Alright, but . . . she misses her Dad. We got a few letters from his mission team, but we're anxious for him to come home."

"Where did he go?"

"Somewhere in Haiti."

"I'm sure he'll be in good company. I have a dear friend from Haiti."

"Really? What's his name?"

That's just when Harmony made it down. Momma was talking to the tall man with shiny eyes. "Hey, there you are, Harmony. Your mother just said that Claire could babysit you for a little while. So . . . come on."

Harmony didn't know where they were going, but if the witch said it was ok, she was ready to go.

* * *

After the vision was through, Michael played the piece over and over and over, making sure he never forgot it. He didn't understand what this music had to do with Peter's powers or the future, but he had a feeling it was true what Dr. Bishop told him.

"That's a new one."

Michael stopped and saw Arthur standing in the door. "Yes, I composed it. It just . . . came to me out of nowhere."

"Does it have a name?"

Michael closed his eyes and tried to think of one. All that came to his mind was, "Red Mist."

Arthur nodded. "Interesting. Well, this could be a new classic. Tell you what, why don't you play it one more time, and I'll record it? Then perhaps I'll distribute it to noteworthy piano players around the world."

Michael laughed and shook his head. "That's not necessary, but I would like it recorded."

"That could easily be done, but after that, I do have another task I would like to ask of you. It's a bit unprecedented, but I think you are the man for the job."

"I'll do my best, sir."

* * *

Mohinder Suresh–Pinehearst

Late that morning, he barged into Mr. Petrelli's office, ordering him to get the catalyst. Petrelli instead showed him a picture of Claire Bennet dead in her father's arms.

"I do know if Claire Bennet dies, then the catalyst dies with her. Then there's no hope for me being cured."

Petrelli threw something in front of him. "Perhaps there is."

It was a cassette tape. "What's this?"

"'Red Mist,' the latest piano composition by our resident Mozart. Looks like the dopamine finally started doing its job."

"So, if I take the notes and translated them into numerical figures and chemical compounds and worked them into an equation, I should . . . produce the catalyst?"

"I don't know what you'll get, doctor, but play around with it. You're bound to get something. At least, let's all pray that you do, because everything is going to change today. Everything."

* * *

Daphne and Matt were having a big argument about finding Hiro and what kind of person Daphne was. She asked Matt point blank if he trusted her, and he said yes. Gabriel wanted to stay out of it, but at that point he blurted out, "I'm not sure I trust you!"

They both looked at him.

"Well, I just now met her, and she's gotten under my skin. She's made me feel very uncomfortable."

"Well, you're going to have to learn to trust her, because we have to work together!" Matt said.

"How are we going to find Hiro, exactly?" Daphne asked, exasperated. "The guys a freakin' teleporter!"

"I could try calling him again," Gabriel offered, but at that moment, there was a loud knock on the door. Matt very carefully went forward and opened the door. Two Japanese men stood there, and one of them was Hiro Nakamura. They both looked very anxious.

"Hey, I need your help. You need to fix Hiro!" the other Japanese man said as soon as the door opened. "Look!" He pulled out a comic which showed two Japanese standing at the door with Matt. A speech bubble was coming out of the Japanese man's mouth, but the text was in Japanese.

"What does it say?" Matt asked.

Gabriel looked at it. "You need to fix Hiro," he read.

The other man nodded. "Arthur Petrelli erased his memory. Hiro now thinks he's 10 years old!"

Hiro, bouncing up and down, moaned. Matt pointed down the hall, and Hiro nearly knocked everyone down in his path as he ran in that direction. After he left, Hanami was revealed right behind him. "_Konnichiwa, _Gabriel," she smiled.

"Well, now I know why he hasn't answered my phone," Gabriel sighed.

"We're all gonna die," Daphne said in frustration.

"See, I don't trust that."

The next moment, Matt stared into Hiro's eyes, but he stopped. "I can't help him. I can't understand him."

"Maybe if you pronounce what you're hearing in his thoughts, I can translate," Gabriel offered.

"No, it's . . . it's too fast. Besides, how is that different from anything he can do?" he said pointing to the other Japanese man.

"Who are you, anyway?" Gabriel asked the other guest.

"I am Ando Masahashi, Hiro's best friend," he replied.

"Oh yes, I've heard of you. Gabriel Bonhomme."

Ando shook his hand. "Oh, I've heard of you! Hiro really wants you to work for him."

"After considering my options, I really want to work for Hiro. I've been trying to get a hold of him for so long, but I guess he won't take me now." He looked at Matt. "So, he's mentally deficient?"

"Excuse me, what?' Matt asked.

Gabriel sighed and resorted to the only other word he could think of, a word he had been hearing on playgrounds all his life. "He's . . . retarded?"

"I wouldn't say that. He has a normal level of intelligence for a ten-year-old and the faculties for his present-age are still there, but he just doesn't have access to them."

"He's gone back in his mind to when he was 10," Ando explained. "He doesn't even remember Hanami."

Then Daphne got into another rant where she accused Matt of pausing before saying that he trusted her. Then, she ran off. Hiro thought it was awesome and begged Matt to do it again. That just got Matt all upset.

* * *

Harmony was very quiet the whole ride there. The girl with the yellow hair didn't even know she was in the back seat. They stopped in front of an old house. The man with shiny eyes and the girl with yellow hair got out.

"Come on, Harmony," the good witch said to her, taking her by the hand. "Let me show you where to go."

* * *

A few hours after he took flight, Nathan caught sight of something. "Hey, Pete, look at that!"

Peter looked up and saw a large bird gracefully gliding on the wind, just behind them. Nathan flew a bit closer, and Peter recognized the patterns in its feathers. "A bald eagle!"

"A real eagle," Nathan said. "Not often you see one of those. Inspiring, isn't it?"

Peter chuckled. He wasn't surprised to hear that coming from his brother, the politician. Then, he glanced down for a moment, and all he could see was ocean. "Where do you suppose that bird is roosting? There's probably no land for miles."

"Awwe, you know the distance a bird like that can travel."

Something still didn't seem right, but they had other things to worry about.

* * *

Gabriel was trying to think of some way that he could help his friend. He wondered if he still had that level of understanding that only Hiro was able to achieve. He sat down in front of Hiro, who was trying to read the comic. "Hey, Hiro, repeat what I say after me, ok?" Then he sang very slowly, "Brother John."

"Frere Jasque," Hiro replied.

"Are you asleep?"

"Dormez-vous?"

"Morning bells are ringing."

"Sonnez les matines."

"Din dan don!"

"Din dan don!"

"That was pretty good. Can you sing it faster?"

"Ooh, I'm good at these!"

So they sang it over and over again, increasing in speed every time. They ended up just laughing at each other after getting tongue twisted. Hiro's stomach growled. "I'm getting hungry again. Wish I can have some more waffles."

"You know, you ought to go to Paris with me sometime. Some of the cafes up there make the best waffles and pancakes in the world. I mean, it's like expert gourmet waffles."

Hiro's eyes lit up. "Can we go there now?"

"No, not now. I think we got to do more important stuff now."

"But I'm hungry!"

"Tell you what, I'll take you up there when your mind is fixed and you can get me a job."

Hiro just stared at him.

Matt started talking about finding Daphne. Ando spoke up that she was a villain, but Matt said she was just scared.

"She didn't act scared to me," Gabriel said. "She was . . . flirty."

"She's ashamed of who she is," Hanami spoke up.

Matt turned to her. "You said that before, in Angela Petrelli's dream. What does it mean?"

"I don't know," Hanami shrugged. "It's just what I've been told."

"Look, we need to help Hiro!" Ando urged. "Get him back to normal, stop Arthur Petrelli–"

"It will only take a minute!" Matt argued. "All we need to do is teleport me to Lawrence, Kansas, I grab Daphne, and–"

"Kansas?" Hiro asked. He stood up and pointed to a picture in his comic of all five of them standing in a cornfield. "Lawrence, Kansas!"

"Yeah, that's us!" Matt said. "We're on a cornfield. Daphne told me she grew up on a corn farm."

"Hiro, let's go there," Ando said.

Hiro nodded. "Lawrence, Kansas! Let's go!" He touched Matt and Ando's shoulders. Hanami and Gabriel quickly took their hands. The next instant, they were standing in a cornfield in front of a run-down house.

Matt uttered an expression of amazement when they appeared there that was rather inappropriate. Gabriel was about to tell him so, but then he said, "This is it! It's Daphne's house. I can hear her thoughts! She's in there. Let's go!"

Hiro repeated Matt's expression. Gabriel tried to catch up to him. "Hiro, don't say that! It's very unprof . . ."

A large shadow suddenly fell over them. Gabriel turned around, shielded his eyes, and just barely saw the moon starting to move to cover the sun. For the first time, he thought of what Claude told him, "Haven't you heard? There's to be a full eclipse in a few days time. A full eclipse in just a couple of years. Things happen during these kind of astronomical events. You might say, they're a bit unpredictable." He always thought Monsieur Rains was being silly or maybe just trying to scare him, but when that shadow fell on him, Gabriel wondered if he was telling the truth. He couldn't explain it, but he felt something change.

He looked at Hiro and Ando looking up at the sky. "_He! Cessez de regarder fixament lui! Vous roussirez votre retine!" _They stared at him and said nothing. Well, at least they did what he asked, but . . . did he say something wrong?

* * *

As soon as the eclipse started, the Petrelli brothers took an unexpected dive into a river in Haiti. "What happened?" Peter demanded.

"I don't know," Nathan answered. "I was flying, then I wasn't. I was falling really fast."

"And now?"

"Nothing. I can't fly." They heard a screeching bird call. Nathan chuckled. "Well, I'll be. Look at that, Pete. Our American friend followed us all the way here." He gestured with his chin. Sitting on a branch in a tree across the river was the same bald eagle they saw in the sky, preening its feathers.

"An eagle in Haiti? That's not normal, is it?"

"Maybe they migrate down here. I bet they get a good catch of fish."

That just didn't sound right.

"Come on, let's make tracks. We got a long walk ahead of us."

* * *

Matt tried to talk to the man of the house but had the door slammed in his face. "_Mes puissances sont allees"_ (My powers are gone), Gabriel heard him say.

Hiro closed his eyes, but when he opened them he was still there. _"Rien! Pas puissances!_" (Nothing! No powers!) he said to Gabriel.

"_C'est une bonne chance que mes puissances fonctionment!" _Gabriel observed.

But Matt shook his head. _"Qu'a-t-il dit?"_ (What did he say?)

"_J'ai dit_ _c'est une bonne chance que mes puissances fonctionment!_" Gabriel said louder

But Hiro shrugged. _"Je ne sais pas."_ (I don't know.)

Gabriel saw what was going on. He could understand everybody, but no one could understand him. "_L'histoire de ma vie,_" he sighed.

* * *

"You're not even trying, Claire! Tell me what you're thinking!"

The man with the shiny eyes was yelling, and it made Harmony scared. Whenever people yell, it means they are mad. It's a bad feeling. It's so loud. She was hiding in a little room, trying to sleep even though she felt cold. The witch was gone. She couldn't even feel her anymore. Harmony didn't know what the girl with the yellow hair and the man with shiny eyes were doing, but it didn't sound good.

The girl with yellow hair started talking. "I used to whistle. I used to be cheerful. Because I thought, just like Jiminy Cricket said in _Pinocchio _that if I ever was in trouble, all I had to do was whistle, and you'd come running to save me. I really believed that! One time I whistled, and I swear somebody whistled back."

"Probably my former partner. He had a sense of humor about him sometimes."

"You're trying to pin this on Uncle Claude? I thought it was you. For years, I thought it was you! But you never did come to my whistle, did you? Oh not, you got as far away from me as you could. You were always leaving! Why were you always leaving?!"

There were loud bangs on the wall, and it really made little Harmony scared. She made a loud noise. Her eyes and nose became hot and wet, and her chest felt tight, and her heart hurt. Water came out of her eyes, and she kept making noises.

Light flooded down on her as the girl with yellow hair opened the door. "Harmony? What is she doing here?"

"Hello, so nice to see you," Harmony sobbed.

"Angela wanted me to bring her," the man with shiny eyes answered. "I don't understand why, so don't ask."

"Is there any reason to keep her here? Look at her, she's crying. She's scared. We don't need her."

"I know, but–"

The front door opened, and another girl with yellow hair (only it was straight) came in. "Hey girls," she sneered. She held out her hand but put it down. "You have the Haitian in here?"

"No, just me." The man with shiny eyes pulled out of his coat a shiny tube, just like the one Strom-bully had, and pointed it at her. "Back out of the house, now! You're not getting Claire!"

Harmony saw him first, and she screamed. The dark man, the man who appeared in the Circle, who tried to kill. She remembered feeling his thoughts, how much he wanted to hurt her. He was standing right the man with shiny eyes. "Funny story, we are." He pointed at the man funny.

Next, there was a lot of fighting. They were hurting each other, and everyone was screaming. The girl with curly yellow hair sat next to Harmony and made sure she wasn't hurt. But then the girl with straight yellow hair picked up the shiny tube and pointed it at the man with shiny eyes. The girl with curly yellow hair jumped up and ran. Just as the shiny tube went "BANG!" scaring Harmony to death, the girl with curly yellow hair fell down.

Harmony remembered what would happen next. She'd get all red, but then she'd stand up.

Why wasn't she standing up?

The man with shiny eyes picked her up and ran out of the house. She still looked red. Harmony was so scared. She rocked back and forth, begging for the Good Witch to come, but she never did. Harmony gazed out the window and saw that the Good Witch was right. The sun had disappeared. And now, she was alone with a stranger, a scary man, a dark man who wanted to hurt her. Her only hope was to sing the magic song, and she sang it without stopping.

* * *

"Hanami,_ me comprenes-tu?"_ Gabriel asked.

The little Japanese girl nodded.

"_Que se produit?"_

Hanami pointed up.

"_L'eclipse_? _C'est ce qui fait ceci?"_

She nodded.

"_Pourquoi?"_ Suddenly, he was hit by an ear of corn. _"Que Hiro fait-il?"_

Hanami shrugged.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to save Daphne," he heard Matt say.

"He's going to save her!" Ando told Hiro.

"_Bonne chance!" _Gabriel yelled at him. Hiro repeated that phrase again, and Gabriel turned to him, angry. "Hiro _nes dites pas cela!_"

But Hiro ignored him. "While he is doing that, we will get our abilities back," he told Ando.

"You can do that?" Ando asked.

Hiro put his hands on his hips. "I have a plan," he said proudly.

"_Bien! On y va!" _Gabriel said.

"Hey, Gabriel!" Matt yelled. He walked back into the cornfield and grabbed the boy's arm as he tried to follow his Japanese friends. "Come with me."

"_Mais . . .je ne veux pas! Laissez-moi! Laissez-moi!"_

* * *

Mohinder had discovered that his abilities were gone, and his "leech bites" had all but disappeared. He was about to escape when he ran straight into Arthur Petrelli. "Now we know the meaning of the eclipse. Everyone's abilities have gone away. You have to get them back."

Mohinder smiled. "I'm not sure that's entirely possible. I mean, who knows what the implications of this event are? They could be irreversible."

"That's unacceptable." Next thing Mohinder knew, Flint was pushing him into a wall. Once Flint let Mohinder go, Arthur tossed him the cassette. "Have you even given it a listen yet?"

Mohinder sighed. "Not yet. To be honest, there's not much I know about reading music. I'm not entirely sure what you are looking for."

"Well, figure it out. You have until the eclipse passes." He left the room and left bully Flint in there with him.

* * *

As Peter and Nathan were making their way through the jungle of Haiti, every once in a while, Peter thought he saw the shadow of a large bird of pray beside them. Sometimes he would see a bird in the distance. Sometimes he thought he could hear its call. Was that eagle really following them? How could that be possible? Could it be trained? Or wait, it must be . . . no, that's impossible! Not with this eclipse!

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was up. As he and the Haitian hid and watched Nathan be dragged away, the eagle flew right over him.

* * *

Matt knocked on the door. "Daphne! Daphne, I'm not leaving until I talk to you!"

"Go away, Matt," she said from inside.

Gabriel groaned.

"No!" Matt continued. "I came here because, I know exactly who you are. You are smart and beautiful and funny. I don't care if this spirit walk's all bunk. I'm never going to give up because . . . because I'm in love with you."

Gabriel groaned again. _"Je ne veux pas faire partie de ce feuilleton stupide!" _he said bitterly.

"That's enough!" Matt said turning to him. He left the door and went straight to Gabriel. "Listen to me. I know you don't understand me, but look at me."

"Matt, _je peux vous comprendre._"

"_Ferme la bouche!" _

Gabriel gave him a shocked look.

"You understood that, didn't you? Now, listen. You . . . have . . . to like Daphne. You have to! You have to learn to trust her. Because if you don't, you . . . will . . . kill her." He tried to add some gestures to help Gabriel to understand, but the boy just appeared more afraid.

"_Non!"_

"Yes! Yes, Gabriel! You see? This is why I want you to help. I want you to be Daphne's friend. I know it's crazy forcing you to be friends with someone, but if you try to kill her, or if you are friends with someone who tries to kill her, I swear I will get you. I will make you pay for the rest of your life. Do you get it? Do you understand me? Nod if you understand."

Even if that was in logical order, it made no sense to Gabriel, but there was no way he could tell Matt that now. So he nodded.

"Great," Matt grinned. He patted Gabriel's arm, then went back to the door and continued to pour his heart out. "Daphne!"

"The's door's open," she said from inside. Gabriel followed Matt inside. They found Daphne sitting alone in her bedroom. "I just didn't want to see you like this."

"Like what?" Matt asked.

What Gabriel saw next made him stare in amazement. Daphne approached them with braces on her legs and crutches on both arms. "Like this," Daphne answered. Gabriel just gaped her, open mouthed, and the corner of his lips very slightly turned upward.

* * *

Such loud noises! Such screaming! Why won't the witch come? Harmony never felt so alone. She was holding her ears, rocking, and crying. The screams were stopping, but Harmony kept crying. She couldn't stop.

"What's that sound?" She heard his footsteps come near. She was so scared! The door opened, and she tried to look away. "Well, some father Bennet is. He left a little girl."

"In his defense, though, his 'real' daughter was dying," the girl with straight yellow hair said.

"Well, look at how scared she is." He got down so that he was close to her. "Hi there," he said softly. "What's your name?"

Harmony screamed and kept turning away.

"That's Harmony Miller," the girl with straight hair said. "I read her file. She's nonverbal autistic."

"She can't talk?"

"Nope."

"Harmony's a very pretty name," he said to her. "It's ok, Harmony, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. Don't cry, ok? Don't cry." He reached up and brushed a tear off her check. His finger was so cold! Harmony screamed again. "You must be very cold. There's nothing here, and it's . . ." He unzipped the black jacket he was wearing, and he put it around her shoulders. "Is that better?"

It was very warm, since he was wearing it. But she still didn't trust him. He was a dark, scary man. So she kept rocking and started singing again. "I got no strings to hold me down, to make me fret or make me frown."

"Elle, maybe you'd be better with her."

"Well, what do I do?" the girl with straight yellow hair said.

"Do you . . . know this song?"

"Not really."

"It's from the movie _Pinocchio_. Haven't you seen it?"

She scoffed. "Not since I was 5 years old!"

"Me too, but I watched it over and over. I knew every word."

"Then why don't–?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I sing much?"

"I don't know. I could see you doing the whole 'Sweeney Todd' score." The dark man laughed. "But come to think of it, there's another song I know from the same movie that I think will be helpful to her."

"Great."

So the girl with straight yellow hair came to Harmony, sat down on her knees, stroked Harmony's hair, her teary cheeks. Then, she very gently, very softly sang in a voice that was so lovely, Harmony had to stop crying.

"When you wish upon a star,

Makes no difference who you are.

Anything your heart desires

Will come to you.

If your heart is in your dreams,

No request is too extreme

When you wish upon a star

As dreamers do."

The song was so beautiful, Harmony rested her head on the girl with straight yellow hair's lap. The dark man stood alone, looking out the window. She kept singing:

"Faith is kind.

She sends to those who love

The sweet fulfillment of

Their secret longings.

Like a boat out on the blue,

Faith steps in and sees you through.

When you wish upon a star,

Your dreams . . . come . . . true."

Harmony's eyes felt heavy and hot. They closed. The last thing she remembered before the whole disappeared along with the sun was the girl with straight yellow hair's voice.

"Are you crying?"

To be continued . . .


	9. Fallen Angels

Chapter 9: Fallen Angels

Elle and Sylar–Abandoned House

Sylar had his back turned to Elle, his head bowed and his hand covering his eyes. "Your voice is so beautiful, Elle, like an angel's."

"I take that as a compliment, coming from someone named after an angel," she chuckled. "Plus, I don't really sing much either. Not since I was little. But . . . there is more to it than that, is there?"

Sylar sighed, still not looking at her. "Did your father ever tell you that he was proud of you?"

Elle had to think about that. She was quiet for a while.

"Did he?"

"I'm thinking! You know . . . I can't really remember him saying something like that. I worked very hard, but he was never satisfied. He kept criticizing me, pointing out all my flaws. But I'm sure he said it at least once. I just can't remember."

"I never heard it from my father, well, the man I thought was my father. He left us when I was a kid. And my 'mother' sounds a lot like your father. She never was satisfied with my following Dad's footsteps. I wasn't either, but I saw no other choice."

"So, that's what this is all about? You being so obedient to Arthur, checking in, doing what you're told. You want to make him proud?"

"There's that, and . . . I heard a complete stranger tell that to me, a victim. He has every right to fear me and hate me to his dying day, but . . . for no reason at all, he treats me like his son."

"Is that the piano guy you were telling me about, your 'namesake's' dad?"

Sylar nodded. "I worry about him. I don't know why. I don't even know his name, but . . . I don't understand why he treats me the way he does. And I like him. I always look forward to visiting him. I just . . . can't help but think he might be in trouble."

"So, you want to abandon this job to go back to Pinehearst to him?"

"No, not abandon it. We can't leave the little one, anyway."

"Harmony's asleep."

"Yeah, but still . . . we can't leave her behind." He looked out the window again. "I never told anyone this, but that song reminded me of something that happened to me. When I was little, I was visited by my real namesake."

"What? You can't mean–!"

"Gabriel the angel. At least, that's what it seemed like to me. I was wishing on a star, like I did every night, and he was standing by my side. I remember, he looked so tall and so . . . bright."

"Did he have wings?"

"Well, Mom told me the Bible doesn't say anywhere that angels have wings. She said they looked more like men, only more frightening. You know, usually the first thing angels say is 'Don't be afraid.'"

"Then how do you know he was an angel?"

"Because he said his name was Gabriel, too, and he said to me that he could grant my wish if I told it to him. But when I told him what it was, he said he couldn't make it true. He said I could make it come true, if I was a good boy. Always polite, always obedient, a hard worker." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Pretty didactic, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I never saw him again. I tried to do it his way, but it only pushed me toward the exact opposite of my wish. I became just an ordinary watchmaker. I guess over time, I kept thinking about that moment, and . . . I lost my faith in angels and wishes. I lost . . . hope. That's song's beautiful, but it's a lie. Wishes never come true."

Elle very carefully got up, not disturbing little Harmony, and she put her arms around Sylar's shoulders. "Gabriel," she whispered, "don't say that. Don't lose hope. I can think of something you're wishing right now. You don't have to say what it is, but I can make it come true."

Sylar didn't answer, and then Elle lightly kissed his arm. He turned to her. She smiled and brushed away one of his tears. He stared into her eyes.

* * *

Peter Petrelli–Haiti

Peter caught up with the Haitian. "You said this happened for a reason. Maybe that's a good thing." He pointed up at the eclipse and happened to see the large, golden bird on the branch of a tall tree. The eagle looked for all in the world like he was looking straight at Peter. It was crazy, and he still didn't know how it could be possible, but if it was, he had an idea. He looked back at the Haitian. "Samedi's abilities are gone, too. He's not invulnerable anymore!"

"That does not make him powerless," the Haitian said darkly. "His followers think he is a god, and he will continue to press that belief even without his powers."

"Then I say we make him bleed! We'll show him he's not a god."

"That is not going to be easy. If we want to be successful, we must act quickly, or someone will die. Pray to your God for swift feet, Peter." The Haitian then went on his way.

Peter looked up and watched as the eagle took off from the branch and soared toward the village. "Amen," he said with a smile.

* * *

Harmony Miller–Abandoned House

It got loud again. So many loud bangs! Harmony woke up, so scared. She was screaming and crying and begging again for the good witch to come, but she wouldn't come.

They were standing right in front of her. "Who's doing this?" the girl with straight yellow hair said.

"Who do you think?" the scary man said. He heard Harmony crying, looked down, and picked her up by the arm. "Hold your fire, Bennet! You're scaring the little one."

Harmony saw the man with shiny eyes holding one of those shiny tubes that make such loud noises. Why? He looked very angry.

"Do you want to hurt her, just like you hurt your daughter?"

"Give her here, Sylar!" the man with shiny eyes demanded.

Then the girl with straight yellow hair made another shiny tube go "Bang!" The man with shiny eyes did the same, over and over and over.

"Come on, Harmony, let's get out of here." He picked the girl up and ran out of the house. Harmony liked it outside. It wasn't as noisy outside, but the sun was still gone. The scary man and the girl with straight yellow hair hid behind a car. Harmony began to scream, but the scary man put his hand over her mouth. "Shh!" he whispered. But Harmony pointed to the girl with straight yellow hair's leg. It was turning very red.

"That's right, run!" the man with shiny eyes yelled. "I want you to be scared, just like Claire was!"

Harmony wondered why.

* * *

Nathan Petrelli–Haiti

The senator was chained by the wrists in a hut. Looking around, though, he soon saw he was not alone. Someone else was chained in a similar manner, a Caucasian man with a dark tan and a scruffy beard. "You American?" Nathan asked him.

The man nodded. "Jack Miller, Church of Christ missionary."

"What are you doing here?"

"Samedi's followers kidnaped my team. He says if . . . if we don't recognize him as a god, he'll kill us in front of the whole village."

"Listen, I have connections. I can get in touch with the Haitian embassy, get you out of here."

"I appreciate the thought, but how will that help this people? If I die, I die for the cause of Christ, as I will serve as an example to them. If I leave, they'll just forget me."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm a religious man myself, and I fear God, but let's be realistic. They'll forget you even if you do die, unless there's some sort of miracle."

"You're probably right. I just wish they would give me a chance. These people are hurting. I can see it on their faces. Freedom from this oppression is in their grasp, and they refuse it. I just don't understand."

Nathan nodded. "I know what you mean."

"So, why are you here? Aren't you a senator?"

He nodded again. "Nathan Petrelli."

"Petrelli?"

"There's a lot of power in a name," Samedi said as he came in. "You shouldn't give yours away so freely. Some believe that if you know a man's name, you can possess him. Others believe that names grant great strength."

"Ridiculous!" Jack yelled, but someone pointed a gun right at him, and he subdued.

"Is that why you call yourself Baron Samedi, so people will worship you like a god?" Nathan sneered.

"Is that why you took the title senator?" Samedi seized the missionary and dragged him out of the house.

"I am not going to let you do this!" Nathan yelled.

"You?" Samedi asked, looking at him. "You are just a man, and I am a god."

* * *

Mohinder Suresh–Pinehearst

The doctor was having absolutely no luck finding any connection to the eclipse and the loss of abilities. He was having even less luck with Michael's music composition. He played it over and over, but nothing was coming. Having Flint breathe down his neck wasn't helping matters. Even worse, Mr. Petrelli would check in periodically, and each time Suresh had to say that he had found nothing and Mr. Petrelli would order Flint to "motivate" the doctor.

Only after a couple of hours of this did Suresh get anything that sounded a bit hopeful, and he thought it was a joke. "You know," said Flint, "about that music thang. I used to play bass in a country band with my sister, so I know a few thangs about notes and stuff."

Suresh just gave him an annoyed look. "Charming."

* * *

Matt, Gabriel, and Daphne–Lawrence, Kansas

Matt and Gabriel stared at Daphne, seeing her in a completely different light. "What's going on?" Matt asked. "What are those?"

"Leg braces," she answered. "This is me without my abilities. I have cerebral palsy."

"But you're the fastest person in the world!"

"Last year, I could barely move," she sighed. "And then there was an eclipse, and afterwards, I could walk. Then I could run. Then I could run really fast!" She had a big smile on her face, but it suddenly faded. "And now, I'm back to where I started. Read my thoughts if you don't believe me."

"I can't," Matt answered. "I lost my abilities. Hiro did, too, and so did Gabriel."

Of course, Matt didn't understand that Gabriel hadn't completely lost his abilities. He could understand what Daphne just said, and he admired her more than ever.

"We tried to fight Arthur Petrelli," Daphne suggested. "He's punishing us!"

"_La sangue mauvais_," Gabriel muttered bitterly.

"We don't know if it was him!" Matt said.

"I watched him kill your father!" she answered. "It's right up his alley, not like I don't deserve it."

"Stop saying that!"

"Why? I'm a villain, a nemesis, right? You reap what you sew."

"How many times do I have to tell you you are a good person?"

"You don't know me! You didn't know about this. You can't help me, so stop pretending like you can!"

Gabriel stepped forward. "_Il n'y a aucune raison avoir honte._" He put his hand on one of her canes. "_Ce n'est pas une punition. N'ayez pas honte de qui vous etes."_

"OK, _je ne parle pas francais." _(I don't speak French.)

That caught Gabriel off guard. He tried to dig in to his understanding of learning English in school. "You . . . lived in . . . Paris."

"Yeah, but I was just stopping by. I didn't bother to learn the language while I was there. That's why I met you! So, why don't you just cut the act and speak English to me?"

Gabriel just gave her a dumbfounded look, searching for a way to respond. Her father came in. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Matt was just leaving."

Well, she said Matt, not Matt and Gabriel. It seemed she expected him to decipher his message and tell her straight out. He was a foreign language major, but so much of his success relied on his ability. So this was easier said than done.

* * *

At a store, the scary man did some emergency First Aid on the girl with straight yellow hair's leg, which was still dripping red. A man in a blue shirt came up. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, so nice to see you!" Harmony said.

The dark man stood up. "No, we're good here," he said and he threw a lot of green papers at the man. The man in the blue shirt didn't pick them up. "I thought you said she didn't talk," he said to the girl.

"She doesn't. That was repeating, like a parrot. It's called echo-something. It's not the same thing. We gotta do something! He's going to call the cops."

"It doesn't matter. You're going to be long gone."

"What are you talking about?"

"You bled a trail of bread crumbs for Bennet to follow!" That didn't make sense. The red wasn't like bread crumbs. Harmony laughed a little. "He's going to be here any second. We need to split up, or else he'll kill us both! Besides, someone needs to get Harmony to safety, and she trusts you."

"No!" the girl answered. "We have to do this together! That's the point! With our abilities gone, Bennet is the powerful one. He's better trained, and he will kill you!"

"Maybe I deserve it."

"Maybe? No, you've changed. Think about what you told me earlier, what that guy with the piano would say. Would he want you to die now?"

"I didn't live up to my namesake's charge."

"Don't give up. Don't lose hope."

"You got a plan?"

"Let him follow, then set up a trap. Numbers are our biggest advantage."

"And what about Harmony?"

The girl smiled and took Harmony's wrist. "Can you say 'hostage'?"

"'Hos . . . tage?" Harmony said doubtfully.

"Are you sure you want to put her in harm's way?" the scary man asked.

"Well, it's like you said. Bennet's not going to want to hurt her. As long as we have her on our arsenal, he's going to be less likely to result to violence."

"Alright, we'll do this together." He helped the girl get up, and they ran to the back of the store.

* * *

Samedi led Jack Miller in front of the village and forced his head down on a flat stone. "American Christian, I am merciful," Samedi said. "I will give you one last chance to redeem your life. Tell me, who is God?"

Jack raised his head and looked out toward the village. "My God is Lord of Heaven and Earth, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. As for you, you would have no power, unless it had been given you from above."

One of Samedi's followers hit him with the butt of his rifle at those words. "You are a fool to proclaim that there is any being more powerful than the invincible Baron Samedi. It is your folly that will be your undoing." He raised up a gun and pointed it at Jack's temple.

Suddenly, there was a screech. A bald eagle appeared out of nowhere and began clawing at Samedi's eyes and pecking at his head. Samedi got deep cuts all around his face that gushed with blood, plainly showing that he was no longer invincible. His followers aimed their guns at the bird but didn't fire for fear of hitting their leader. The Haitian and Peter shortly appeared and took their guns away. The leader tried to catch the bird, but it was too quick and flew away.

"Hallelujah," Jack whispered.

"What was that?" the Haitian asked.

Peter grinned. "The answer to my prayer."

"You made me bleed," Samedi said weakly.

"Yes," the Haitian said. "And even when you stop bleeding, you will bear scars. No one will believe you are a god anymore. But I will do so much more than that!"

"Are you going to kill me, brother? It is the only way you can stop me."

The Haitian knocked him out.

* * *

"This is . . . don't be . . . it . . . " Gabriel was still struggling to say what he wanted to say, but he just couldn't think of the right English words.

"What?" Daphne asked for the tenth time, sounding more annoyed. "Look, Gabriel, you can probably tell that I don't like to wait this long. I know you can say it right out, so why don't you just say it?"

"I am . . . trying!"

"Here." She gave him a pad of paper from her bedside table. "Will it help if you write it down?"

Gabriel scribbled something, then marked it out, then wrote something else, then marked it out, then wrote something else, then marked it out repeatedly.

"I guess that's a no."

* * *

Harmony gasped and pointed. The man with shiny eyes was on the TV. The scary man and the girl with straight yellow hair got scared. They went much faster. "We'll take this down. It'll buy us some time," the scary man said. Then he pushed the two girls into a little room that goes up and down. He pulled down two fences. "Take her somewhere safe."

"Gabriel, no!" the girl shouted.

"Goodbye, Elle," he said as the room went down.

They went down, but the girl with straight yellow hair pushed a button up. "Sorry, Harmony. I can't leave him alone. Just try and stay out of the way."

But as they got up, the man with shiny eyes got another shiny tube, one that was straight. "Oh no!" the girl with yellow hair whispered. "Harmony, don't look! Don't look!"

Harmony covered her eyes, and she heard the man with shiny eyes say, "Poor Gabriel. You always wanted to be special. Look at you now. You're nobody." Then she heard a strange metallic noise and a crash.

She uncovered her eyes and saw the scary man was red all over. There was red on the floor, everywhere. The girl with straight hair was crying. Harmony didn't understand what was happening. She thought of the other girl with yellow hair. Whenever she went red, she'd fall down and get up. When is he going to get up? The girl with straight yellow hair cried sitting beside him. She must have been waiting for him to get up. Harmony sat with her and looked at him. He was a scary man, but he was also a sad man. He wanted so badly for Harmony to be safe, and it was nice that he gave her his jacket when she was cold. She wanted him to get up.

Still crying, the girl with yellow hair took her hand. "Come on, Harmony. I'll take you home."

"No!"

"Harmony, there's isn't anything we can do for him. He's dead. Do you know what it means to be dead? It means he can't get up."

"He can. Other girl does it."

"Other girl? Claire? Well, she . . . she's different. Besides, since the eclipse . . ."

But as she spoke, a ray of sunlight from a window fell on the scary man. Hey, the sun's back! As it came back, the man pushed himself off of the floor and coughed. Harmony ran to him and smiled. "Hello, so nice to see you."

He smiled back. "Nice to see you, too, Harmony."

* * *

"This . . . thing is not . . . bad. Don't be . . . sad . . . about it."

"I'm not sad!" Daphne said. "I'm a bit ashamed, but that's not quite the same thing."

"Ashamed! That's the word! Yes! OK, uh . . . you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are."

Daphne scoffed. "That's what you've been trying to say? Just like that Japanese girl. Well, I'll tell you the same thing I'd tell her if I could–try wearing these," (she pointed to her leg braces) "for 20+ years, and tell me not to be ashamed!"

"But I do! Not down here," (he put his hands on his legs), "but up here," (he pointed to his head).

"You have CP too?"

"_Non_, LSDA."

She gave him an odd look.

"_Le Syndrome d'Asperger. Je suis autiste."_

"You're autistic? I never would have guessed!"

"You understood that?"

"Well, yeah."

He ran to the window and smiled. "The eclipse is over!"

"It is? Well, maybe I can . . ." She threw down her canes and tried to walk, and she walked fine. "Ha ha! Great! Well, I don't need these anymore." She started pulling off her braces.

"Wait, Daphne, before you do that, try asking yourself, what are you really leaving behind?"

"I will," she said. "But I'm going to ask someone who makes better conversation than you do!" Then, in a purple streak, she was gone.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Daphne's father got it first, and Gabriel heard them talking. The boy followed Matt as he walked off the porch. "Did you find Hiro, Hanami, and Ando?"

"Yeah," he said, "they were at a comic book store."

"A comic book store? Wasting time?" Hiro really had turned into a 10-year-old.

"Actually, there were comic books there that were telling us what's coming up next."

That sounded silly, but stranger things have happened. Gabriel walked behind Matt as he went into the cornfield. "Matt, I understood what you were saying earlier."

"You did? Why didn't you say something?"

"I did. You told me to shut up."

"Oh, sorry."

"But I just want to say you're wrong. I did think Daphne was annoying before, but I feel differently about her now. I wouldn't want to hurt her for the world now, and I wouldn't want anyone else to hurt her."

"So you're saying you pity her because of her disease?"

"It's not a disease! It's a disability! There's a difference. And I don't pity her. I identify with her, the same way I identify with you and your dyslexia."

"Well, it's along the same line, isn't it? The only reason you like her is because of her disability."

"Maybe so. It's more like I feel bad that she is ashamed of her condition. She wants her power to make it disappear. I don't think that's right. It could be an empowering identity, part of a culture."

"Look, she's got bigger problems now. She thinks she's a bad person, disability or not. Let me take care of that first. Then maybe you can help her feel 'empowered' to have CP." He sounded very doubtful.

* * *

"You're not going to hurt anyone else," Nathan told Samedi darkly.

"This is not your fight," the false god answered him.

"You made it my fight!"

Suddenly, there was a screech. The eagle was sitting on another branch. Samedi point to it. "_Regardez!" _(Behold!) he shouted to his followers, "_L'oiseau qui m'a dishonore! Tuez -lui!" _(The bird that disgraced me! Kill it!)

One of his disciples quickly grabbed a gun, aimed at the eagle and fired. The eagle let out a weak cry and fell out of the tree. When it hit the ground, there was a large explosion of gold and white feathers. Once it cleared, a man was seen lying there, wearing tattered clothes and covered head to toe with sweat. He lay on the ground, panting. Peter ran up to him. "Professor Bonhomme! I thought it might be you. Are you alright?"

"_L'eau,_" he gasped.

"What?"

"Water!"

"Oh, I'll get some. Can you get up?" He pulled Michael up to his feet as Samedi's followers marveled at him. As they stared, the Haitian stopped his brother once and for all.

* * *

At the comic book store, Hiro had locked himself in the bathroom and refused to come out. The owner offered him some drabble of how inspiring he is as a hero. After he said his piece, Harmony went up to the door. "Uncle, you must grow up. Who will protect me if you don't? I don't mind that you're not a kid. You're my best friend, and I like you just the way you are. You are my hero, Uncle Hiro!"

The door opened, and Hiro bowed at the comic store opener. "Thank you," he said solemnly. Then he turned to Hanami, got down on his knees, and hugged her shoulders. She didn't hug back, but she smiled.

The co-owner of the comic book store suddenly muttered, "This is really weird!" He was staring at a comic with a magnifying glass.

"Did you find something?" Ando asked.

"Issue 1 on _9__th__ Wonders."_

"Yeah," the other co-owner said. "This is the issue where Hiro's dad gives the baby Claire to her father, makes her swear to protect her." He looked at Hiro. "You were there! That's the first time that Claire Bennet and Hiro Nakamura met."

"Look at this." He showed the others what he was looking at. "In the greenhouse, that's Claire, and that's Hiro hiding behind the ferns. Hiro's wearing the same clothes he is not. What I can't figure out it who or what that is." He pointed to something next to Claire. "It looks like a hoodie, but if it's a person, their back's turned to us."

"That looks like Gabriel!" Ando said.

"Which one, Gabriel S. or Gabriel B.?"

"What?"

"Sylar or Bonhomme?"

"Oh, not Sylar, the boy, the French kid."

"That would be Bonhomme."

"That's Gabriel Bonhomme?" the other store owner said. "What happened to his Pink Floyd shirt? I always thought that was cool."

"I think Hiro needs to take Claire here to get his memory back. Gabriel B.'s probably there to translate."

Ando showed Hiro the picture and repeated what the store owners said in Japanese.

"How do I find Claire?" Hiro asked. The store co-owner handed him the latest _9__th__ Wonders _issue and pointed. "I must go there. I will get Gabriel and go right away!" He shut his eyes and vanished.

* * *

Daphne was still standing in the cornfield, staring at her scarecrow Ray. Gabriel joined her. "You know, I had a friend like this when I was younger. I spoke to him a lot when I thought my father was dead."

"Look, I really don't get it," she said. "Give me one good reason why I should value my CP, why I should treasure it after it made my life a living nightmare! Well, I bet it wasn't as bad as autism, but still–"

"That's where you're wrong! I'm very happy for what autism has made of me. I'm happy for what it's done to my mind. And actually, if it weren't for my autism, my ability won't work. They're intertwined. Who's to say your disability doesn't do the same for your ability?"

"They're polar opposites!"

"Exactly! Look, Asperger's is a communication disorder. When the eclipse was going on, I could understand what was going on, but I couldn't communicate. I bet Ando knew French, but he didn't know what I was saying. The only person who understood me was Hanami, who is also on the spectrum."

"What?"

"She's also autistic."

"So, it was like the eclipse worked halfway for you."

"Having a disability has its benefits. You know, I have some friends with CP. One of them's in a wheelchair, goes into muscle spasms all the time. I have another with a strange gait who can barely talk."

"I get it. There's always someone worse off that me. Well, for your information, I've heard that argument all my life, and it's done nothing to make the pain any less!"

"No, what I was going to say is they are both proud of the way they are. Of course they have problems that make life very hard, but–"

Suddenly, Hiro appeared at his side. "You must come with me," he said quietly.

"Hiro, _un momen–"_

"No time!" Hiro grabbed Gabriel's arm, shut his eyes, and they disappeared.

* * *

"Where is your mother?" the man with shiny eyes demanded.

"She's with us!" the scary man, who's shirt was all red, answered. The girl with straight yellow hair had her hand around the arm of that nice woman from Strom-bully's shop. The scary man made the man with shiny eyes fly across the room. The girl with curly yellow hair picked up a shiny tube from the floor, and a blue light came out of the other girl with yellow hair's hand that made the woman scream. "We're taking Claire with us! That's what we came here for in the first place."

Why?

"It doesn't have to be that way!" The good witch was suddenly there, and she got down on Harmony's level. "Harmony, you can stop him!"

"Where have you been? Harmony's been begging for you to come!"

"I know, but I couldn't. If I could, I'd be right by you when the sun went away. I know you were very afraid, but you can stop him! Sing your song!"

Harmony didn't really feel much like singing.

"Please, Harmony. It's the only way to stop him from taking away your friend."

"But . . . they're Harmony's friends, too."

The good witch stared at Harmony in amazement. "Stockholm syndrome?" she whispered.

"They're very scary, but they're also very sad. They cry. They want to do good things, but they don't know how."

"They don't want to do good things, Harmony. All they think of are bad things."

"They were nice to me."

"You don't understand. Sing your song."

Meanwhile, Claire yelled, "STOP! Look, I will go with you, OK? Just please, leave him alone!"

Sylar, without putting down his hand or loosening his grip on Bennet's neck, turned his gaze on her. "Tell me, Claire, has he ever told you that he's proud of you?"

Claire stared at him fearfully.

"Has he, Claire? Ever? Just once?" At those last words, his voice sounded strangely distorted.

"Yes," Claire answered in an amazed tone. "Many times. That's what fathers do, isn't it?" For the first time, there was a little bit of sympathy in her eyes. "What kind of father did you have?"

He turned back to Bennet. "I believe this game of cat and mouse is over!"

"They're not your parents!" Bennet yelled.

The good witch snapped her head toward his direction.

"They're manipulating you, Arthur and Angela. I read your files, Gabriel, you're not their son! They're just leveraging your mommy issues to turn you into their weapon!"

"What is wrong?" Harmony asked the good witch.

She turned back to the girl. "Sing! You must sing your song! Quick!"

"Harmony doesn't want to!"

"You must! Someone will get hurt! Sing!"

"You really think you two can have a normal life?" Bennet asked. "What is normal anyway, Elle?"

Then a red line started to appear on the man with shiny eyes' neck. "Sing!" the witch demanded again.

Harmony couldn't fight it anymore:

I got no strings to hold me down

To make me fret or make me–

Just then, the short man appeared out of nowhere. Next to him was that nice boy that met Harmony in the church. The short man said something funny and made the scary man disappear. And then he made the girl with straight yellow hair disappear. Then, he touched Harmony's shoulder, but she didn't disappear.

"She's resisting!" the man with shiny eyes said.

"Don't worry, we'll take her home," the girl with curly yellow hair said. But the short man turned to her, said something else funny, held her hand, and they were all gone. The good witch was gone, too.

* * *

"Thank you for what you did," Nathan said, shaking the Haitian's hand. "Nobody should ever make the sacrifice you made today." The Haitian nodded. Then Nathan turned to Michael. "Hello there. I'm Nathan. And who are you?"

"Michael Bonhomme."

"Gabriel's father? I thought you were dead! First Dad, then you. Who next, Elvis?"

Michael laughed and shrugged.

"Well, thank you for your help and inspiration. It's good to meet you."

"Nice to meet you."

The Haitian handed him a dipper of cold water. "You have done a remarkable thing for my people this day," he said to him in French. "You proved to this village that my brother was not a god. He will forever bear the marks, even in death. Your act freed us all from his oppression, gave us hope. For this, you will always be honored among my people."

"I hope they don't think I'm a god now."

"I don't know. Perhaps they do."

"You will most honor me if you listen to the man who I rescued."

"He is . . . Christian, yes?"

"That's right."

"Then we will listen to him. He will give my people hope as well."

"_Merci."_

"_Non, merci beucoup."_

Peter and Nathan looked like they were having a long, serious talk. Michael waited until they were done. Nathan took to the air again. Then Peter ran back to him and clasped his shoulder. "My one ally, once again."

Michael laughed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still a little weak and thirsty."

"You're not in any pain from the gunshot?"

"No, injuries heal each time I transform, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's right."

"But I was miserable. I didn't want to stay an eagle the whole time. Eagles aren't native to Haiti. I don't think they even migrate here. But when that eclipse started, I tried to think of another creature more indigenous to the country, and I couldn't change. I got so hot!"

"Well, think about what you did as an eagle. Could you have done that if you were any other creature?"

"I guess thinking back on it, an albatross would have been a more likely choice even for the flight here, but Arthur told me how much Nathan appreciated American, patriotic things, and–"

"Arthur? So you've stayed down in Pinehearst? You've been talking to my dad?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you escape?"

"I have my reasons."

"Well, that's in the past now. We'll get on a jet and fly back to Primatech where Mother is waiting for us, and she'll–"

"What happened to your brother?"

"He . . . went to Pinehearst. He seemed like he had reasoned it out. But you don't have to go back!"

Michael nodded slowly. "Yes, I do."

"What?! Professor, no! You can't!"

"I have to."

"No, you don't! Don't you remember what I told you? Don't you remember what we saw in the future?"

"Yes, I remember. And I'm starting to wonder what you saw. I saw children with powers torment a poor boy without powers. They beat him up, tossed around his lunch, called him names. That isn't right! That boy should have had some sort of protection! But nobody was protecting him. In fact, that violence was encouraged! The adults thought it would force him to get a miracle shot. Think about what just happened. I prevented a martyr! I saved Harmony's father from being killed! If he was able, he wouldn't have needed me! It's just not fair that some of us have ability and some of us have not. That's what I'm trying to rectify!"

"But don't you remember the painting? It will destroy the world!"

"DESTROY THE WORLD! DESTROY THE WORLD! That's all you ever talk about, Peter Petrelli! You haven't said anything I don't know already! Peter, the world will be destroyed, but not by us!" He shook his head. "You just don't understand. You are a Caucasian, high-class, able-bodied, American male! You are the paragon! You are everything everyone wants to be! You don't know what it's like to be disenfranchised, to be the OTHER, to be pushed aside and picked on. Unless you knew about it, you wouldn't know why I feel so deeply about this."

"Well, with that logic, it would just be better if we had no powers, right?"

"I think that would also be foolish, to take those away. We might as well be fighting God. You want your powers back, don't you Peter?"

Peter didn't answer.

Michael closed his eyes as his heart ached with sadness. "Goodbye, Peter." He held up his arms, which became wings, turned into an albatross, and flew away.

* * *

Mohinder returned to the lab after an attempt of escape. Mr. Petrelli was waiting for him with an injured Flint in a hospital bed. "Are you ready to get back to work?" Arthur asked.

"Look at me," Mohinder whispered. "I had nowhere else to go."

"Incidently, I found this near Flint's body." He picked up a couple of sheets of paper that had notes draw out, crude sheet music, and numbers written next to each note. "Looks like he did your homework for you."

"He said something about playing bass in a country music band. I didn't think–"

"You shouldn't assume things about people. Of course, the question is can you develop this information into a formula?"

Mohinder scanned one of the pages. "Yes, I believe I can."

* * *

Sylar and Elle appeared on the beach. They engaged in simple conversation for a moment. Elle looked at the sky. "It's beautiful. Look at all the stars."

Sylar didn't look at the stars. He kissed her. Then he let go. "I've been thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"About wishes and stars and angels again. What you said about hope. What my piano friend said about me, about forgiveness and love. Those kinds of things."

"What about it?"

He looked at her darkly. "It's wrong, all of it. Nobody ever really changes."

"You did. I saw you."

"That was temporary. And then I got my powers back, and I understand now. Fallen angels are never redeemed, never forgiven, never loved. And that's what I am, Elle. Nothing can change me. We're both just damaged goods, Elle, both far from salvation."

"What do you think the Piano Man will have to say about that?"

"He's either a liar or a fool. Either way, I'll make him pay for what he's done, once I learn the truth."

"Why do you say 'I'? I'll help you, you know."

Sylar glared at her.

"Gabriel . . . you're hurting me!"

For a moment, that glare turned to sadness. "I know." Then, he pointed to her forehead and created the fatal red line.

* * *

Gabriel, Hiro, and Claire appeared in a greenhouse. "What did you just do?" Claire whispered.

"Yes, Hiro, what is it you need?" Gabriel added.

But Hiro shushed them both. He pointed outside. A Japanese man was handing an infant to a tall, American man while a little Japanese boy played on a Gameboy nearby.

"Dad?" Claire cried. Hiro covered her mouth.

"Hiro, is that your father?" Gabriel whispered.

Hiro only answered by showing Claire the comic which translated the Japanese that the men were saying. "That baby's me," Claire whispered. "Hiro, did you bring me back in time? Why did you bring me here?"

"I don't understand a word you're saying," Hiro said.

"She asked why you brought her here," Gabriel answered in Japanese.

"Less talking, more watching," Hiro said, turning Claire's head forward.

Just then, Gabriel heard voices from inside, very hushed voices, but one of them sounded familiar. "We are running out of time. Something must be done, and quickly."

"Yes, I know, but . . . it just doesn't seem right! I've seen Noah weep for a child, and now that we're giving him one, are we going to take it away?"

"Did he know that you saw him?"

"Well . . . it depends on which occasion."

It had to be. Gabriel carefully crawled under the plants toward the voices so that he could get a better look at who was speaking. He finally could get a glimpse of a man with silver hair he didn't recognize talking to a young man with blonde hair going down to his shoulders. He was much younger and clean-shaven, but Gabriel recognized his face, and his voice. "Monsieur Rains," he whispered.

"We have to ensure that the catalyst is preserved," the silver haired man said. "Call this serendipity!"

"Well, how do we know that the Nakamuras are the only ones that have it? Maybe someone else carries this catalyst. Bennet and I can search the world for said person, bring 'em back here, and we're done!"

"It's possible, but . . . this is just easier, and I'd rather not leave this to chance."

"What does it do anyway, apart from solidifying this theoretical formula?"

"No one knows."

Claude laughed. "You're mean to tell me we're going to waste our time traumatizing a little rugrat for some mystical light that doesn't seem to serve any purpose?!"

"If you're really concerned about Bennet, there is another alternative."

"Now you're talking! What is it?"

"The Petrellis have a nephew."

Gabriel felt his heart jump into his throat. They were talking about him.

To Be Continued . . .


	10. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 10: The Beginning of the End

Manhattan, 16 Years Ago

"Their niece is staying with Arthur and Angela, and she brought her son," the silver-haired man continued. "He's about Claire's age. The only thing is, we'd be concerned about his mental health. You see, his father has a high functioning manifestation of autism, and it is possible that he passed it on to the child. We can't tell quite yet, but it's very possible."

"Do that to a kid like that? That's worse than Bennet's girl!" Claude argued.

"Honestly, Rains, why can't you be more like Bennet? Why do you have to be so humanistic? We function in the morally gray, remember?"

"I came from a rather gray country. I hate gray." They started walking toward the opening. Gabriel shrank back.

"Hiro, let's go!" the Japanese man outside said.

"Mama!" the Japanese kid cried.

"Mama?" Hiro said. He started going toward a door in the back saying excitedly, "My mommy is here! I have to see her!"

"Guys, keep it down!" Gabriel said through his teeth. "They'll hear us!"

He overheard Claude say, "Happy Father's Day!"

But Claire made just as much a clatter following Hiro. "Hey, where are you going? Should I stay with me, or should I go with you?" Hiro shrugged and stamped off. "Come on, Gabriel!"

"Hang on!" Gabriel called back as softly as he could. His heart beating a mile a minute, he looked out and saw the spies walk down the stairway from the roof. Gabriel heaved a deep sigh, so relieved that they didn't hear them. He got up and headed for the same door.

Suddenly, he felt a violent tug on his hoodie, choking him. He thought for a moment that one of the plants caught him, until he felt an arm clamp around his chest and heard a voice say in his ear, "Well, what have we here? A little spy?"

"Let me go!"

"What are you doing here, lad?"

"Monsieur Rains, let me go!"

Then, for just one split second, there was a flash of blue light, and Gabriel got out of Claude's grip. He faced his invisible friend, who looked tremendously confused. "How do you know me?"

Gabriel didn't want to explain right away that he was from the future, since the last time he traveled through time, that was so hard to explain. So instead he said, "So that's what you look like without a beard. You should shave more often."

"You can see me?"

"You can't let them do that to the Petrelli's nephew!"

"What business is that of yours?"

"Because I'm the Petrelli's nephew!"

"I don't think so!"

"No, it's true. It's hard to explain, but you're just gonna have to take a leap of faith."

"Wait a minute . . ." Claude put his finger to his lips like he was thinking and came closer to Gabriel, inspecting him. "How'd you do that thing with the light?"

"I . . . I can't explain it."

"I think you should come with me."

"Well, I will, but my friends just went over–"

"NOW!" Claude seized him again and drug him down the stairs.

* * *

Pinehearst, Present Day

It was amazing, once all the numbers were figured, how easily the equation was formed. Mr. Petrelli came in late in the morning. "Well, Doctor, have you figured it out yet?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. The composition that Michael Bonhomme gave us is . . . the formula."

"You mean the same formula we have?"

"Yes."

"With or without the catalyst?"

"I did not see anything extra specifically like that."

"So, he game us the exact same formula."

"No, not exactly the same. Look, the periods are higher. The molecules are more free-flowing. The outer electronic shells are satisfied. Mr. Petrelli, this is the formula in a gaseous state."

"Red mist," Mr. Petrell reflected.

"This is excellent news! In such a state, it can be more easily absorbed by the system. It could be more widespread and fast."

"I'm not so sure I want that, Doctor. From the beginning, I've wanted to be selective of who gets powers and who does not. For now, let's just keep this on the table. It's a viable option, but we'll leave it as a last resort."

Mr. Petrelli then walked down to his office. Michael Bonhomme was waiting for him there. "Michael! Good to see you back! Did you take good care of my boys?"

"Yes, they are both fine," Michael answered.

"Glad to hear it. When I found out they were going to Haiti, I was real worried. I lost sleep over it."

"Arthur, I have something to say."

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking, and I realized that most of the time, I've just been sitting in my room playing piano. That helps me relax, and it helped me get better acquainted with your son, but it doesn't do anything to help you."

"Believe me, Michael, you've done more for me than you realize."

"But I want to do more! I really want to make what's going on in Pinehearst a reality. The future depends on it."

"I know you do. However, along that line, I do have something serious to discuss with you. When you were out, I happened to discover this in your room." He pulled out a cellphone and a Bluetooth piece. "I believe you have a voicemail message." He dialed the number for the voicemail and turned on the speaker.

Noah Bennet's voice came on, "Hello Michael. I just want to let you know that you don't need to worry about Sylar anymore. He's dead. I killed him by slitting his throat with a box cutter. I don't know how much you know about this, but there's an eclipse going on that's suspending abilities. So, it's impossible that he's going to heal. Another thing I should tell you is that I discovered that he's not related to you at all. I read his file, and he's not the son of Angela and Arthur Petrelli. They're lying to him, and they're lying to you and Gabriel to make the lie seem genuine. I hope you're doing well. With any luck, you're probably sleeping during the eclipse. Anyway, call me when you get this. I want to hear how things are going on your side. Bye." Arthur closed the cellphone, crossed his arms, and gave Michael a hard look.

The Professor tried hard to hold back tears. "It's true. Bennet did hire me to spy on this place. He wanted to learn more, and he didn't trust his partner. But that doesn't mean that my feelings about what we are doing here weren't real! And now, they're more real than ever! Arthur, I really want this to come about. I am dedicated wholeheartedly."

Arthur smiled and nodded. "I know you are. Now, why don't you go back to your room? We'll let you know when we need you."

"Thank you, sir." Michael stepped out of the room, and the moment he did, he ran to his room and wept.

Arthur quickly took out his phone and dialed Elle's number. He was surprised to hear Sylar's voice answer. "What?"

"Sylar? You are alive! I just heard a report that stated the contrary."

"That's old news."

He didn't like the dark tone of the young man's voice. He didn't sound so juvenile anymore, which meant he was going to be harder to manipulate. "You were supposed to be here by now! Where's Claire?"

"Gone into thin air."

"What happened?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Put Elle on."

"I'm afraid I can't do that right now."

"Now, you listen here, young man–"

"No, you listen. I'm not helping you anymore, Arthur. I'm not helping anyone. I talked to Bennet. He told me everything. He told me you're not my father. I want the truth." His voice suddenly got more distant. "And I know exactly where I'm gonna find it. I got a whole new list of people with abilities. It's going to be very useful."

"Don't do this! Come see me."

"Don't worry, I will. Very soon." Gabriel hung up, leaving Arthur feeling very much at the end of his rope.

Immediately after he got off the phone with that con man, Gabriel continued to dump lighter fluid on the corpse's body. He thought about Arthur, the lies he told him. And he thought about the lies the Piano Man told him. He was proud of him? For what? There had to be a catch, something he wanted. He just was trying to make himself comfortable with a dangerous man. Gabriel decided he was going to find out what he really wanted first. He'll trick him into it.

He looked down at the girl's body. "Goodbye, Elle," he whispered. He touched her shoulder, then stood above the corpse and sent out a jolt of lightning. He watched as she burned. In his heart, he was sad to see her go. Then, he decided that if this piano guy was as deceptive as he thought he was, he will get the same fate. He will burn.

* * *

"Darling, good news. We're adopting a daughter! . . . Please, don't ask questions like that. Her name's Claire. I'm going to drop her off with you . . . Yes, I know but work . . . Alright, we'll see you, bye." Noah hung up the pay phone and turned around to see his partner with a young man in his grip. "Who've you got there, Claude?"

"Peeping Tom," he answered.

"My name's Gabriel!" the boy yelled.

"Uh, his name's Gabriel. Is Thompson about?"

"I think he's over by the car."

"Where are your glasses?" Gabriel shouted.

There was a bit of a pause, and Noah and Claude just laughed as though sharing a private joke. "Oh, um, Claude if you don't mind," Noah said, "since I'm a father now, I got my hands full, so could you do an errand for me?"

"Of course!"

"I just need you to pick up something at this address sometime today."

"No problem. I can do that." Noah handed him a slip of paper, and Claude put it in his pocket. "Hey, don't work too hard today, Noah."

"I'll make no promises."

As he walked on, Gabriel thought he saw a girl with blonde hair staring at him from the bushes. "Claire!" he mouthed, but just before he could get a good look, Claude jerked him over.

"Thompson!" Claude called.

The silver-haired man took an unappealing look at the boy. "What's going on?"

"I found this kid spying on us on the Deveaux roof."

"You know the drill, Claude. Get him some drugs and tranquilizers and leave him alone."

"You didn't let me finish! Wait until I tell you what I saw him do."

Just then, Gabriel heard a soft beeping noise. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. "What happened?" a text message from Claire read.

Gabriel typed back with one thumb, "Caught! Where's Hiro?"

"I think he could be our light," Claude said. "We may not even need to send the baby to Nakamura."

"Do you think so?"

"I know I saw him do something. Do we have to send him all the way back to Primatech to test him?"

That moment, Gabriel got another text message. "With his parents. We'll meet on the roof tonight. If you're not there, I'll rescue you."

"I think I know a research facility that's closer," the silver haired man answered.

"What's this?" Claude said grabbing the cellphone out of the boy's hands. "They're making 'walkie-readies' now?"

"Perhaps you should tranquilize the boy."

"Certainly. Can't having him blabbing, can we?" Gabriel tried to resist, but this time Claude was too strong, and the silver-haired man was helping. So Gabriel felt the needle jab his neck, and he fell asleep.

* * *

Nathan took a walk around the corridors, after seeing Tracy's idea of "intelligent design," to think about it all. In the hall, he suddenly heard loud wailing. He followed the sound to a small room with a piano and a cot. A man he had just seen in Haiti was sitting on that cot, crying his eyes out. "Mr. Bonhomme? What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

"GABRIEL'S DEAD!" Michael wailed.

"He is? How, how do you know that?"

"I heard it from Bennet. He called me."

"Um, listen, I got connections. I'll just send someone around to verify. If it's true, I'll make sure your son has a decent funeral."

"Son? No, wait!"

"Not now. I know your grieving. We'll talk about this later, alright?"

He walked out of the room and heaved a heavy, sad sigh. Tracy was waiting for him, her arms crossed. "Sorry about that. We still haven't figured out what do with the old, autistic guy."

"That old, autistic's guy's my cousin . . . in-law . . . if there is such a thing. Look, he's the father of the boy I nearly became the guardian of. At any rate, he's family. I owe him something."

"Well, if you ask me, he's really just taking up space. Arthur agrees. He and I were even talking this morning about disposing of him."

* * *

Gabriel groggily lifted his head. He was in a room all painted in white. It looked like . . .

"_Les Dynamiques Massifes."_

"You're awake!" That man with the silver hair came in. He had such a big, obnoxious smile. The boy didn't like it. "My name's Thomson. What's yours?"

Gabriel looked around. "Where's Monsieur Rains?"

"That's a highly unusual name."

"No, my name is Gabriel, but I would rather talk to Monsieur Claude Rains, _s'il vous plait."_

"Well, too bad. You're talking to me." He leaned over and looked Gabriel in the eyes. "How do you know Rains, and what were you doing spying on him?"

"It's . . . complicated."

"Son, you don't know complicated. I've seen things you can't even begin to get your head around."

"Alright then. I am from the future. I don't know how far ahead. I had a friend who travels in time grab me, said he needed my help, and he took me here. He never explained why, and we got separated."

"You see, that wasn't so hard, was it Gabriel?"

"You believe me?"

"And Rains tells me that when he restrained you that you seemed to glow for a moment, a blue glow. Can you tell me about that?"

"I don't know what it is. It only happens sometimes when I'm threatened or when I encounter someone else on the spectrum."

"Spectrum? What do you mean?"

"The autism spectrum." Thomson then got a very serious look. Gabriel read it in fear. "What are you going to do to me?" he whispered.

Thomson got up. "I'm going to find a way to test it. Don't worry, I'll try to make it as painless as possible."

"That's not the point! Are you just going to experiment on me because of what I am? Do you think I won't resist? Do–" But as Thomson walked out, Gabriel had an epiphany. He think he understood what this light was after all.

* * *

Michael continued to weep. Mohinder came in with his daily afternoon tea. "I know you're not doing well," the young scientist told him, "but try the tea. It'll help you feel better. Nathan's looking for Gabriel. He hasn't found anything yet. I referred him to a source he could try. And I do have some news that I believe will help cheer you up."

"What's that?" Michael asked wearily.

"You're going to change the world." From there, he told him everything, about how they had been monitoring his playing the piano, slipping him dopamine, and how he supplied them with the improved formula. Michael looked betrayed for a little bit, but once Mohinder explained the outcome, he got excited. His face lit up, and he started crying tears of joy.

* * *

A couple of hours later, a young lady carrying a baby boy was brought in to the same building. A young Englishman held open the door. "This way." The woman gave the man another uncomfortable, examining glance. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"I feel like I've seen you before."

The young Englishman chuckled. "I assure you, Mrs. Bonhomme, you haven't seen me before."

"No, I'm rather sure I have. I know that face, and that voice, but . . . Oh, I remember. It was a couple of weeks ago."

"Uh, where was this exactly?"

She took a deep breath. "Do you know much poetry?"

"Well, I've been to university, and . . . yes, of course. England turned out a bunch of good poets. Shakespeare, Auden, Pound, Eliot–"

"Yeats."

"I was about to say Yeats. Why?"

"Never mind, it's stupid."

"No! No, go ahead. Tell me."

She sighed. "I saw you in a dream. You were standing on a roof with my son in your arms, and you were reciting Yeats. And you sounded so disillusioned and hopeless. It made me cry. Look, I told you it was stupid."

He laughed. "That is bizarre. Yeats wrote some strong stuff, didn't he. Not really lullaby material."

They were joined by an older man. "Thank you, Claude. I'll take it from here."

"Yes sir, Mr. Petrelli." He nodded politely to the lady and took his leave (or so they thought).

"So, Uncle Arthur, what was it you wanted me to do?" the woman asked.

"It's actually rather simple. I want you to show your son to that young man in there." He pointed through a two-way mirror.

"Who is he?"

"That's not really any of your business, darling. Just do what I ask you, please." She looked into his face for a moment, and then she slowly nodded. He opened the door for her. "Don't say a word to him."

She walked in gradually. Gabriel shrank back when he saw her. "_Vous ette ma ma . . . Vous ette ma ma . . ." _(You're my ma . . .)

She suddenly looked very sad and confused, but she didn't say anything as her uncle had instructed her. She held out the baby in her arms.

"_C'est moi?" _(It's me?)

She didn't answer. Gabriel kept telling himself he shouldn't fool with this, but he could not resist. He had to look closer. He reached out to touch the baby's face, and the infant's little hand grasped his finger. Instantly, both Gabriels beamed a bright blue, filling the whole cell. The older Gabriel wanted to stop it, but the younger Gabriel wouldn't let go. On the other side of the glass, Arthur and Thomson were both watching in amazement, but they were not alone. Someone who was not on their staff was observing, too.

* * *

Across town, Hiro met his mother and regained his memories. Once he understood what he had to do, he made a request. "Mother," he said to her tenderly but firmly, "give me the catalyst. Give me the light. I will defend it."

"Your father wants me to give it to a baby," Mrs. Nakamura said. "He is calling Noah Bennet now."

"I am strong enough to protect it!" Hiro asserted. "I can keep it safe! Believe me, I know in me it will . . . be best."

"I always believed in you, my son. However," she pulled a small slip of paper from her kimono, "keep this with you in a safe place. Should something happen to you, this will tell where else the catalyst may be found."

"Yes, mother. I have a very secure safe in Tokyo."

"Yes, I know." Then she held his hands and touched his chest. She glowed a fiery orange light, and that glow was passed on from her to Hiro. He could feel it warming his soul, energizing his spirit. "I am so proud of you, Hiro," his mother whispered.

"You're the one who did it," Hiro whispered back. "You showed me what it means to be to be a hero." He turned to her, but she was dead.

* * *

A little while later, a cockeyed man with red hair came into Gabriel's cell. He had a rather unpleasant sneer on his face. "Good day," he said rather creepily.

"Who are you?" Gabriel asked.

"Ah! He speaks German, too!"

"German?"

"There's no need to know, lad, who I am. But I saw what you could do. Fascinating." The man started pacing around. "You probably do not realize this, boy, but you have great potential. This world is about to become very dangerous, but you have a way of fighting. You have the power to resist it! You possibilities, young man, are limitless."

Gabriel didn't know what to say, how to react to this stranger. Was he a friend or a foe? He couldn't tell! The man offered his hand. "Join us."

Suddenly, there was a bang, and the man fell down unconscious. Gabriel looked up. "Monsieur Rains?"

"Shh!" he ordered. He held out his arm. "Take my hand." Gabriel took it without hesitation. "Now, this is important. Don't let go until I tell you."

"_D'accord_," Gabriel nodded. Claude took a very deep breath and closed his eyes. "Is something wro–?"

"GO!" Claude grasped Gabriel's hand tighter, and they ran out of the cell. As they ran past people who didn't even look at them, Gabriel understood. Claude made himself invisible, and by touching Gabriel he made him invisible too. He led the boy outside to a car and threw him in. Then he ran around and got behind the wheel, shivering. "A rush, isn't it?" Then he sped out of the lot.

"Who was that guy?" Gabriel asked.

"We don't know, and therein lies the problem."

"He works for Massive Dynamics?"

"How'd you know that's where we were?"

"I recognized the building. I had an interview here a couple of days ago."

"You could have said something!"

"I don't know. I was still trying to get over the shock of getting kidnaped!"

"At any rate, we were assured that the people there were loaning us space, and they wouldn't interfere. That German creep obviously didn't get the memo. Trust me, he disturbed me as well. Frankly, though, I saw no reason to keep you down here. Suffice to say, you're not what we thought you were."

"So I don't have the catalyst?"

Claude looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know so much?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I got time. Let me just . . . oh, drat!" He pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket. "Noah's errand, I forgot! And this place is probably near closing time. Well, let's see to that as quick as we can."

He drove around New York until he parallel parked outside a watch store. Gabriel thought it wouldn't be safe to wait in the car, so he went in. He wandered around, looking at all the watches and clocks. Then he looked up when he heard his name.

"Gabriel, don't forget to brush your teeth!"

Well, then he realized that the speaker wasn't talking to him. He always did a double-take when he heard his own name.

"Yes, Mother!" a voice called back. Gabriel followed the voice to a room in the back. A young boy with dark hair was looking up at the night sky. He folded his hands and recited,

"Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I WISH I may, I WISH I might,

Have the WISH I wish tonight."

Then the boy shut his eyes really tight. Gabriel turned on a lamp to get a better look at the boy, wondering if he was who he thought it was. "Is your name Gabriel?" he asked.

The boy opened his eyes and nodded.

"Gabriel . . . Sylar?"

The boy laughed. "Daddy didn't name me after a watch!"

Gabriel didn't understand, so he decided to connect with the boy. "You know, my name's Gabriel, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What was that you were wishing?"

"I can't say! If I tell, it won't come true!"

"That's silly! How can anybody help make it come true if you don't tell anybody?"

The boy looked at Gabriel in wonder. "Can you make it come true?"

"I might. You have to tell it to me, first."

"I wished for a new life. I don't want to be a watchmaker, like Daddy. I wish that I could be someone special, someone Mommy and Daddy would be proud of. Can you make that wish come true?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, I can't. But you know what? You can. When you become older, you can make your own choices. You don't have to be a watchmaker. You can be anything you want."

"But how?"

"You decide what you want to be, and you work very hard to achieve it. You have to be dedicated, determined. It also helps to be nice to people. Be kind and polite, and above all, never ever ever hurt anyone!"

"That's all I have to do?"

"That's about it."

The boy turned away thinking, and then Claude rushed in. "Come on, kid. It's time to go!" He grabbed Gabriel's arm and pulled him away.

"I'm gonna do it!" the boy said, but when he turned around, the other Gabriel was gone.

* * *

Michael ran into the lab in the back. He found a huge vat of red liquid. Mohinder, Tracy, and Nathan were all standing around it. Michael approached it in awe. "So, this is it!"

"This is it," Mohinder nodded.

"I thought you said it was a gas."

"It will be. In its current state, it's not quite complete."

"What does it lack?"

"Father's going out right now to get the last ingredient," Nathan said.

"Then after we get it, we're going to convert it to a gas and pump it into the atmosphere, right?"

"Now, now, Mr. Bon-home," Tracy said in a patronizing voice, "let's not move too fast. We got to test this first, you understand?"

"Tracy, don't treat him like a child," Nathan said firmly. He looked at Michael. "Walk with me, please, Mr. Bonhomme."

"Yes, sir."

They walked out of the lab. "How are you feeling?"

"Better since Mohinder and I talked."

"Well, I'm sorry to say that we've yet to locate Gabriel's body. We haven't even found even a trace."

"I really think we should discuss this."

"It's alright. I'm happy to do it. I feel as though I owe him, even though I never became his guardian. Listen, about this formula . . . it's going to be a while before we do anything on a big scale. Tracy has a select group, and we're going to test it on them first. We'll do several tests: liquid state versus gaseous state, different mixtures, different conditions, all sorts of things. We just want to make sure this is going to work. You understand?"

"Yes, of course I do. And once everything works out, then you will release to the atmosphere? Please, whenever you do, will you let me know when? I'd like to see it."

"Mr. Bonhomme," Nathan sighed and stopped, "I think we have two different philosophies. I don't think it's right to give everyone in the world abilities."

"Why not? It's the only way that's fair."

"Don't you see? Think about it. Think about how it would be if we had more people like Baron Samedi in the world. What would it be if someone like Osama bin Laden or Adolf Hitler had abilities? If everyone had abilities, we're just leaving ourselves open for those kinds of people. Abilities should be reserved for those who deserve them."

"Who do you mean?"

"You know, people who are strong enough, intelligent enough, who have their hearts in the right place, people who really want to be heroes."

"And who's to say the evil ones don't deserve this blessing? Do they ever change?"

"Well, we both know that's unlikely."

"No! Only you think that now. There was a man here, a very evil man. He tried to kill me, my son, more than once. He frightened me to death when he first came under this roof. But I watched, and I saw him become someone caring and forgiving and understanding. I saw the pain in his heart, how low his gauge is of . . . love. I could see his true hunger, and I tried to guide him to the food that he needed. And now . . . and now, he's dead! I know he didn't die as the wicked man I knew when I first saw him, but I worry for his soul. He died in his sins."

"Wait, you mean to tell me this is the Gabriel you're in mourning for, not your son?"

"I know, it's confusing, but he doesn't deserved to be called by the name of his past anymore. He's changed.

"Wish I could be as optimistic as you. Look, I'll take your thoughts into consideration if you will do the same for mine. Fair enough?"

"I suppose so."

"Good."

* * *

More stars were out as Gabriel and Claude climbed up to the Deveaux roof. "So, is this where you hid the TARDIS?" Claude asked.

"The what?" Gabriel replied.

Claude shook his head. "Nothing."

Gabriel walked up to the edge and looked at the night sky. "I always loved the view up here."

Claude nodded and said something like, "Yeah," under his breath. Then he looked up at the skyline, took it in for a while, then said slowly and darkly, "I have met them at close of day coming with vivid faces."

"Who?"

He didn't answer but went on, "From counter or desk among gray eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head, or polite meaningless words, or have lingered awhile and _said _polite meaningless words."

Gabriel tried to interject again, but Claude continued, getting more sarcastic and agitated as he went on, "And thought before I had done of a mocking or a gibe to please a companion around the fire at the club . . ." He took a deep breath, stared at the sky again, and said very slowly and mournfully:

"Being certain that they and I

But lived where motley is worn:

All changed, changed utterly:

A terrible beauty is born."

"Oh, I see. It's a poem."

"I just can't stop thinking of those words. I feel like this is the beginning of the end for me."

"Don't be silly. A beginning is a beginning."

"You don't understand. You don't know what I gave up to liberate you. It's not just because of that German creep. I wasn't supposed to take you off the premises until they gave the official word. It's what my partner would've done."

"You're not your partner. And he doesn't control your destiny. Only you control your destiny." Claude stared at him as though he was amazed that such wisdom was coming from a boy. Gabriel just looked away with a smirk. "I better stop now before I start sounding like a greeting card."

Claude laughed. "That's good. That's bloody awesome."

Gabriel suddenly looked at him in fear and searched all around his person.

"What's wrong?"

"Where? Where am I bleeding?"

Claude just laughed harder. "No, no, you're fine. It's a Brit thing, a rather vulgar phrase. I'm sorry to frighten you."

"Oh. Oh! Yes, I see now." Gabriel cooled down. Claude continued to snicker at his misunderstanding, but he slowly calmed down as well. "That was a nice poem," Gabriel said.

"Thank you. I can't take credit for it. It's a stanza from 'Easter, 1916' by William . . . Butler . . . Yeats." He turned to Gabriel. "What did you say your name was?"

"Gabriel."

"I mean, your surname."

"I don't think I ever said it. It's Bonhomme."

"Bonhomme," he whisper. "By George, I fulfilled a prophecy." They heard steps. "Someone's coming!" Claude grabbed Gabriel's wrist and pulled him under the chicken coop. Claire Bennet finished climbing the steps. She walked over to the edge of the roof and watched the skyline.

"That's Claire. She's my friend."

"Claire, as in Noah's daughter?"

"I call him the spy, but yes." Claire pulled out her cellphone and started texting. "Oh, I think you still have my phone."

"Who would you think of calling?"

"Well, if you don't hand it over, it will probably–"

Something beeped twice from Claude's pocket.

"–beep."

Claire didn't look like she heard. Claude handed Gabriel the phone, and the boy read her page, "Do you need my help?"

He started texting back that he was fine when he heard Hiro's voice. "Cheerleader, it's over. We can go home now." Gabriel saw his Japanese friend walking toward her from the greenhouse.

Claire smiled. "Hey, you speak English! I thought that–"

"It's a long story. Just know that I have taken the catalyst. The light is in me now. We have saved the future."

Claude and Gabriel exchanged shocked glances.

"Well, it's not over," Claire said. "Gabriel's kidnaped. We gotta save him."

"Oh, why didn't you say so? Take my hand. Let's–"

"Guess I showed up just in time!"

Gabriel knew that voice. He didn't see him come on the scene, but he didn't care. He knew what he had to do. He came out of his hiding place and shouted, "BONSOIR ONCLE SANGUE!" (Good evening, Uncle Leech!) Then he stepped in front of Claire and Hiro and blazed a brilliant blue light.

The leech gestured as though he was trying to push Gabriel out of the way, but nothing happened. "You . . . Gabriel . . . do you know what you're doing?"

"You will not hurt my friends!" Gabriel yelled at him. The leech continued to violently gesture, to no avail. Gabriel shouted again, "YOU WILL NOT HURT MY FRIENDS!" The light burned even more fiercely, blinding. Hiro put his hands on Gabriel's shoulders and tried to add his strength. Everyone else just looked in awe. And the leech faded as the light grew brighter. When Gabriel ran out of strength and the light disappeared, the leech was gone. Gabriel felt dizzy and weak, and everything went black. Hiro caught him as he passed out.

* * *

Michael met Arthur in his office. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Oh, yes, Michael. I was hoping to see you. Come here."

Michael came closer to the desk. "You see, I was talking to Nathan about the formula. Mohinder told me what I've done, and–"

"Yes, I know. Michael, I just want to tell you how pleased I am with you. You provided so much information and morale here I think we will always appreciate. The way you helped with my long lost prodigal son changed him so much. I think I will always be grateful for his progress. I want you to know that I am honored that you are a part of the Petrelli family. You have truly met and exceeded my expectations. And I wonder if now you will allow me to give you a hug."

Michael had a very blank look on his face, and he very slowly nodded. "Yes, Uncle," he said in monotone.

Arthur smiled and came closer to him, arms outstretched. Just before he could close them around Michael, the door slammed open. Arthur turned away to see the new guest. "Peter! Glad you're here! Nathan and I were just about to–"

But he stopped short as Peter held up a gun. Michael looked at him in terror. "Peter, no!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Arthur made a gesture to push it away, but nothing happened. The Haitian walked up behind Peter. "So . . . you're here to kill me."

"I'm here to stop you," Peter said grimly. "Creating abilities like this, giving them out, it'll destroy the world."

"No, it won't!" Michael cried.

"Stay out of this, Professor. This is between me and my old man."

"I don't think you have the nerve to kill me, Peter!" Arthur said. Peter cocked the gun, but he still didn't pull the trigger.

"He's too strong," the Haitian said straining. "I cannot hold his power back!"

"Listen to me, son. There is another way. The formula is ready. Nathan is here. I can give you your abilities back. We can start over!"

"No," Peter whispered.

"Peter!" the Haitian yelled. "Shoot him now!"

"Wait, just wait."

"That's your problem, son," Arthur sneered, "too much thought, not enough action. How could be my son?"

As he was speaking, Peter fired the gun. Michael screamed at the loud noise and waited for its blow. Then, as his fears subsided, he opened his eyes and saw the bullet was still in midair, directed right at Arthur's brain. Michael wondered what was going on, until another figure emerge, holding up his hand, stopping the bullet.

"GABRIEL! YOU'RE ALIVE!" Michael started running toward him, but with just a look he was stopped in his tracks. He also used his power to throw the gun out of Peter's hand.

"Hello, Arthur," Sylar said in a murderous tone.

"You're here," Arthur said.

"I am. No place I'd rather be than with family." He looked at Michael and gave a small smile. "Obviously, you're happy to see me."

"Of course, I am," Michael replied.

"Might I ask why?"

"Well, I thought all day that you were dead."

"That doesn't mean anything. There are people in this room who want me dead." He looked over at Peter and the Haitian.

"But they haven't seen the person I have seen, the boy who wants to be a good person, a boy who hungers for forgiveness, for acceptance, for love. You've come so far. I believe you need those things. I believe you can be a good person, Gabriel."

Gabriel stared at him, but then he turned his look to Arthur. "What about you? Are you really my family?"

"Of course," Arthur said uncomfortably. "I'm your father."

Gabriel didn't take his eyes off him, but then he said coldly, "No, you're not. Now I know the truth." Then he looked at Michael. "As do you. So now, what do you think since you know the truth?"

Michael made eye contact in an instant and saw the eyes of a murderer, not the eyes of his friend. He turned and ran out of the room.

Sylar smiled. "That's what I thought." He looked at the young man he once called brother. "You're not a killer, Peter." He looked back at Arthur. "I am." And with one sudden gesture, he drove the bullet into the man's brain. Peter quickly picked up the gun. "Oh, there'll be no need for that. I'm not going to kill you. You don't have anything I need anymore."

"And Bonhomme?" Peter asked.

"I haven't decided yet. I don't think you have either." Sylar smirked and walked out of the room.

Michael ran back to his room, locked his door, threw himself onto the cot, and pressed his arms to his chest. He knew it was only a matter of time.

To be continued . . .


	11. Terrible Beauty

Chapter 11: Terrible Beauty

Primatech

"I think he's coming around." The voice sounded very distant. Gabriel barely recognized it as Claire's.

"Don't crowd him so. Give him some air." That sounded like Great Aunt Angela.

He could hear a beeping noise. He was aware of his shallow breathing. He felt warm. His curiosity won against his desire to continue sleeping, and he opened his eyes.

"Hello! So nice to see you!" a cheerful voice said in his ear. He turned and saw a little smiling in his face.

"_Bonjour_, Harmony," he said weakly.

"Good to see you back," Great Aunt Angela said as she squeezed his hand.

"Where am I?"

"Primatech. We're planning our next move. Once you get your strength back, you can help us."

"What happened?"

"It's hard to explain. From what Claire told us, you realized the depth of your power. You used it to its maximum until you ran out of energy."

"The important thing is, you got the job done," another voice chimed in. The spy was standing at the foot of the bed, smiling. "You protected my daughter, and Hiro, from Arthur Petrelli. For that, we are grateful."

"It was very brave, whatever you did," Claire said. "_Merci beaucoup_."

She kissed Gabriel on the cheek. Gabriel didn't think much of it, until he remembered that kissing isn't as common a custom in America. Then he smiled, blushed, and said quietly, "_De nada."_

"Isn't that Spanish?"

Gabriel laughed. He sat up a little more and looked around his bed. "Where is Hiro?"

"That's when things get kinda complicated. Just after you passed out, Mr. Petrelli appeared again. I don't know how, but we weren't as caught off guard. Something hit me, and I saw him coming up."

"Monsieur Rains. He must have warned you."

"Maybe so. Anyway, Hiro teleported you and me back here. He said he would deal with Arthur Petrelli. I don't know what happened to him after that. You know him a bit better than I do, though. Maybe you could call or text him."

"I could try. I haven't had much luck reaching him lately."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Great Aunt Angela said. "Now, may I talk to Gabriel alone for a moment?"

The spy nodded. "Let us know if you need anything." He, Claire, and Harmony walked out of the room.

Great Aunt Angela looked at him earnestly. "So, you figured it out, have you?"

Gabriel nodded. "I'm not sure where it came from. I just thought of when you called it a defense mechanism and all the instances when I saw that light. It's a resistance. We don't have to be influenced by anyone with powers, and when we're threatened by other people who try to harm us with their abilities, our power kicks in, and their abilities won't work. That's why Sylar's been unable to kill me. It's probably why I can see Monsieur Rains. And it's how I protected Claire and Hiro. I knew if I called on that power, the leech couldn't touch them."

"And it maybe because you were so determined to help your friends that it reacted so strongly. These kinds of things tend to perform more powerfully if the motive behind them is unselfish. Very good job. I believe you would be an asset to Nina."

"Nina? Madame Sharp at _Les Dynamiques Massifes?_ You submitted my name!"

"That's right."

"Why?"

"Nina and I went to school together. She's a good friend of mine, but she's scared. As you know, she has good reason to be. But what you've seen barely scratches the surface of what she's seen."

"Do I want to get into that? When I went back in time, there was a German man there who seemed more than interested in me. He frightened me to some degree."

"Yes, there is a matter I must explain to you. Before she met your father, I was trying to coax my niece into courting a man named William Bell."

"Bill."

"'Bill Belly,' they called him, star pupil at Harvard University who just so happened to have a little study abroad program in France. He's now head of Massive Dynamic, you know. He had this theory that people have a potential in them, but that potential is slowed down by what he called Limitation, which is basically any form of development whatsoever. Especially social development."

"Well, under that theory, he might consider me the 'paragon of animals.'"

"Exactly. He called people with spectrum disorders 'pure' or 'the Unmitigated Ones' or 'the Limitless Ones.' Now, since he made that theory, some fanatics have taken this idea and distorted it in all sorts of directions. There's even some suspicion that they may be responsible for the spike in autism's prevalence."

"Oh, so that's what it is. You want me to–"

"Now, now, Gabriel, before you assume anything, hear me out. If what Nina suggests is true, this satellite research team is going to be seeing more cases of savants or Kanner's or Asperger's. They're not going to know what to do. You can help them out, and you can help out the people they find. And if they are part of your circle, you can teach them how to resist."

"I see. That is smart. _Merci._"

"_Je vous en prix." _(You're welcome, more formal) "Now, you continue to rest. Let us know when you're ready to get up."

"I will." Great Aunt Angela stood, smiled, and left the room.

* * *

Pinehearst

Shivering, Michael continued to wait on the cot. Even with a locked door, he was just delaying the inevitable. He was going to die. He knew it. His just didn't understand; he thought he was doing the right thing.

He heard heavy breathing, right outside his door. Michael cautiously opened it and saw a large African American man standing right outside, flaring his huge nostrils. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Don't mind me, old man," he answered. "Just getting a buzz."

"A buzz?"

"I could feel it, just under the cracks of your door. You're terrified. And I need to bank up on all the strength I can get for what I feel's coming."

It was very odd, but Michael just nodded and started to close the door. Before he could close it all the way, his phone rang. He checked the ID–Bennet. He pushed "talk" and said right away, "Why did you lie to me?"

"About what?" Bennet asked.

"Why did you tell me Gabriel was dead?"

"He's not dead! He's here, rather weak but functioning. You want me to put him on?"

"Are you talking about my son or the man once called Sylar? I meant the latter!"

"Oh. Because I thought he was dead. Look, I made that call to you during the eclipse. When the eclipse ended, he got his powers back and revived. He attacked my family."

"I grieved for him almost all day!"

"Grieved over a murderer?"

"He changed!"

"He hadn't changed a bit. He was manipulating you, just like the Petrellis were manipulating him."

"I don't believe it. You didn't know him the way I did. But now, he is trying to go back to his old ways. He learned he's not really Arthur's son. I don't know what he did with him, but he had the implication that he wanted revenge. He may still be here. And Peter . . . Peter's here, and he's got a gun. He's going to kill me!"

"He's not going to kill you."

"He is! He's upset because I chose to stay at Pinehearst, but I had to, partly because of our mission. He tried to shoot Arthur, and it's only a matter of time before he finds me and does the same to me. He's probably going after his brother first."

"Michael, calm down. Now, this is important. Do you know if they completed the formula?"

"What? Oh, yes, they have. I'm not sure if they're going to use the gaseous state or not. Peter's probably going to destroy it, and then–"

"We'll make sure that Peter doesn't do anything to you. His mother and I, and your son, will be down there soon to help. We're coming down from Primatech in Texas, so it may take a while, but we'll be there."

"What if I'm dead by then?"

"If you're really worried about that, I'll get Angela to call him."

"It may help."

"Alright then, we'll see you."

Michael hung up his phone and took a deep breath. He looked down at his piano, sat on the bench, and began playing "Claire de Lune." He heard a frustrated sigh, and the man waiting outside his door walked on.

* * *

The spy walked briskly into Gabriel's room. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"Still a bit tired," Gabriel answered.

"Can you get up?"

"I haven't tried yet. I don't really want to."

"Well, that's beside the point. We gotta leave."

"Leave? Why?" Claire asked.

"The formula's complete. Peter's gonna need our help at Pinehearst," the spy answered, then looked at Gabriel, "as does your father."

"This is about Papa?" Gabriel asked. "Why didn't you say so?" He got out of bed, but the second his feet hit the floor, he put his head on his forehead. "Oh, dumb leech! I knew that he was going to do this to me!"

"Will giving you something to eat help?"

"Perhaps a little."

The spy led them down to the weapons room as he gave instructions. " Gabriel, you and I will take care of your papa, get him to safety. Claire, you and Meredith find and help Peter. Angela, you handle anything else."

"What about Harmony?" Claire asked.

"Take her with you," Angela suggested. "She'll protect you. If anything gets hairy, just tell her to sing her song."

"OK."

The spy handed a gun to Meredith and to Angela, and then he took one for himself. "This ends now," he whispered dramatically.

"Spy, what was he doing down there?" Gabriel asked.

The spy only looked at him uncomfortably.

"I knew my father was at Pinehearst, in care of the leech, but why was he there in the first place?"

"I'll explain on the way," the spy finally answered.

As they proceeded down a corridor, Gabriel froze. There was a dead body bleeding right in front of him. "_Qu'est que c'est?_" (What is this?) he asked. Claire gasped in fear. Harmony just stared at the body. The spy cocked his gun and proceeded with caution, but all they saw were more bodies. Suddenly, the windows were barred, the doors shut, and the lights clicked off. Gabriel and Harmony shrieked at the noise. "What's going on?"

Then, Sylar's voice came on the PA. "Arthur Petrelli is dead. No need to go to Pinehearst now. Peter couldn't do it, so I did . . . just like Mommy wanted." Gabriel gasped. He had no idea Peter was behind this. "Namesake, quit hyperventilating. Relax. Take a deep breath. Go on. Oh, didn't I mention I can see you? Take a breath, or I'll see it's taken away."

"Do it," the spy whispered.

Gabriel thought it was stupid, but he inhaled deeply, then slowly let it go.

"There. Doesn't that feel better?" Sylar asked.

"What are you getting at, Sylar?" Gabriel asked with contempt.

"I know why you wanted to go to Pinehearst, and to show how generous I can be, I'll relieve your mind. Your father is fine . . . for now. I lived up to my word, believe it or not. They weren't experimenting on him. But I assure you, once I find out what game he's playing, his status will change. Quickly."

"What do you want, Gabriel?" the spy demanded.

"For one thing, I want you to stop calling me that. You know what my name is, Bennet. You know what I am. I know I repulse you, terrify you. You see me as a monster, a fallen angel, a demon. Yet, you did this to me."

"What does he mean?" Gabriel whispered.

"Yeah, ask them, Namesake! Ask your family! But before this night is over, I intend to show all of you, one by one, even the little one, that you're all monsters, exactly like me. And all of you will suffer in my own nightmare."

Gabriel wasn't sure how he felt–angry, scared, worried, brave, maybe all at once. Then the spy pushed him on. "Keep moving." He gave instructions to Claire about her gun.

"Think about it," Sylar's voice came back on, "manipulative grandmother, neglectful father, mother who abandons her own daughters, all monsters really. Oh, and lest I forget, the two freaks of nature!"

"Hey, I resent that Sylar!" Gabriel yelled at a surveillance camera. "I'm proud of what I am!"

"Go ahead, Namesake. Who says you shouldn't be proud? But you're still a freak, still weird, still abnormal. And guess what? You always will be."

Gabriel screamed and lunged at the camera, but Claire held him back. "Hang on, Gabriel. Leave him to me."

"We'll take you somewhere safe," Angela offered.

Sylar chuckled. "I'd like to see you try."

* * *

Manhattan–16 Years Ago

Hiro was hugging a flagpole several feet above the ground. A dove calmly sat down on the pole. "Oh, pigeon, help me. I have no powers. Arthur Petrelli took them from me when I tried to fight him. I lost the formula. I failed my father. I lost my destiny. And now I'm talking to a pigeon!" He started to whimper and cry.

Then a voice said in Japanese, "Stretch out your hand."

Hiro opened his eyes and stared at the bird in amazement. "Pigeon?"

"Do it!"

So Hiro clutched the pole with his left arm and stretched out his right hand. Suddenly, he felt fingers brush against his knuckles. There was someone up there!

"Can you move closer to the wall?"

"I can try." Slowly, he inched his legs down the pole. Then, he extended his hand again.

"That's it. There you go."

This time, he felt another hand firmly take his own. He felt someone pull him up and heard his straining. Still, once Hiro found himself sitting safely against the wall, he called out, "_Yatta!" _in joy. He climbed up the wall, and someone took his hand and helped him up, but once Hiro got to the roof, he saw no one. "Hello? Where are you?" No answer. Hiro felt scared. "A ghost? Mother sent a spirit to help me?"

"Boo!" Hiro screamed a little. He turned around and saw a young man laughing at him. "Never gets old."

"_Oni_? It is you!"

"Let me guess. You're Nakamura, Jr."

"Yes sir. Hiro Nakamura, at your service." Hiro bowed low. "Though I am not much use now. I have no powers."

"Well, I wouldn't say that. So, you don't have your powers. It doesn't mean you can't change history, eh? You're in the past, after all."

"Of course! Mother used to say if we fix the problems of today, we won't have to worry about them tomorrow! I think I can still follow the charge my father gave me and guard the formula! Thank you, _oni_, your wisdom has guided me again!"

Claude scoffed as he ran off. "Wisdom. Me, a wise man!" He looked down on the street and saw a woman climbing the stairwell with a pan of bread and a baby carrier. He recognized her dress–Madame Bonhomme. "What's she doing here?"

* * *

Michael was interrupted from playing when his phone rang. He saw on the caller ID it was Bennet. "Hello?"

"Bonhomme, I'm sorry, but it's going to be a while before I can reach you."

"Why?"

"It's Sylar. He's taken over Primatech, put it on lock down. There are bodies everywhere. He must have something truly sadistic on his mind."

Michael heard a couple of clicks, and then another voice came on. "Sadistic doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Gabriel!" Michael cried.

"Hey, how did you get on this line?" Noah demanded

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sylar replied. "Hello, my piano-playing friend," he sneered.

"Gabriel, what is wrong?" Michael asked.

"You're what's wrong. This was why you were at Pinehearst. You were Bennet's spy. I bet he told you to get all chummy with me."

"That is not true!" Noah interjected.

"He's right," Michael said. "I became friends with you because of the person I saw you become."

"Is that so? You know, if you really felt that way, I wonder how you'd feel if I told you your son is here, with me."

"My son?"

"Yes, your original Gabriel. I wonder, Bonhomme, if we were both in a burning building, which Gabriel would you save?"

"I'm not good at such hypothetical questions."

"Who said anything about it being hypothetical?"

"I know one of you is saved, and one is lost, but I'm not giving up on him!"

"We'll see. Until later, Bonhomme. You know, if you were such a good friend, why is it you never told me your name?"

"You never asked. It's Michael."

"Michael and Gabriel. How appropriate." The line went dead.

* * *

Angela led Gabriel and Harmony back to the room where Gabriel was resting. "There's no point in getting out, so I suggest that you wait here. Try to build back up your strength, and protect the girl."

"What does he want with us?" Gabriel asked. "What is he after?"

"I don't know. This is what I do know–you are the only one who is safe from him. As long as you are alert and your defenses are up, Sylar can't touch you."

"What about Harmony?"

"During the eclipse, Sylar had her kidnaped. He was kind to her, and I fear she has developed Stockholm syndrome."

"What?"

"She's identified with her captor. She thinks he's her friend."

"He tried to lead into that snare as well."

"I'm rather certain Claire, Noah, and I will be able to hold our own, but if we need your protection, we'll let you know."

"_D'accord_," Gabriel nodded. As Great Aunt Angela left, Gabriel gestured to Harmony. "Here, little one. Stay close to me." He sat down on the bed, and she sat on his knee. He put one of his arms around her in protection.

"Scared," Gabriel heard her say in his mind.

He sighed. "_Moi aussi_." (Me too.)

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Kaito Nakamura opened it. "Ruth Bonhomme?"

"Hello, Mr. Nakamura," the young mother answered. "Aunt Angela told me about your loss. It's just amazing. I mean, I only met your wife a couple days ago, and she looked to fine to me."

"She had been dealing silently with an illness for some time. Seeing your baby did give much joy to her heart."

"Well," she handed out a pan covered in tin foil, "as soon as I heard, I made you some Hungarian hot rolls. It's my grandmother's recipe. I know it's not much to take away the pain, but I'm hoping it'll give you something to eat, anyway. And if there's anything you need me to do–"

"You already have enough responsibilities of your own with such a small child."

"Well, that is true. I just thought I'd offer."

"Thank you, I think we'll be fine." He noticed an umbrella hanging on her arm. "Did you walk here?"

"Um, yes, actually. I didn't have any money on me for a cab, and I don't know what Uncle Arthur did with my car. I'm not far from Aunt and Uncle's home, I'm sure you know."

"Is it raining?"

"Not yet, but the clouds are rolling in. They're calling for a storm late tonight."

Just after she said that, they heard thunder that didn't sound very distant. "Very well. You may stay here until the storm passes. Afterwards, I will see to it that you get a ride back to your uncle's house."

"That's very generous of you. Thank you." He let her in and took the pan to his kitchen. Meanwhile, Ruth sat on a couch and started writing in her diary. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

* * *

Michael was playing a gentle tune on his piano when the door opened. He looked up and saw Peter standing there, but he didn't stop until he finished the piece. Peter smiled. "Still the Piano Man."

"Yes," Michael nodded. "Well, let's get it over with."

"Get what over with?"

"Go on, give me your worst. Right between the eyes. And let's make it quick. I've always feared a painful death."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen, I know why you're here. You want to do to me what you just did to your father, what I saw happened. I deserve it, right? I'm a threat to your world, and you can't have that. Under normal circumstances, I would relinquish Gabriel to you, but I don't think it would be right for him to be raised by his father's killer."

"Professor Bonhomme–"

"Didn't you hear me? I said hurry it up! I'm ready! Just do it already!"

"You don't understand. I'm not here to kill you." He put his gun down on the piano to show he was serious.

"I don't understand."

"You're not like Nathan or my father. You're reasoning isn't the same. In fact, I can sympathize with what you're saying. Professor, do you know what I was before this whole power-thing started?"

"A teacher?"

"No."

"A lawyer."

"Heh, no."

"A social worker?"

"I thought about I, but no."

"An artist?"

"I never picked up a brush before I had Isaac Mendez's ability."

"Alright, I give up."

"A nurse. And not just any nurse, a hospice nurse."

"So?"

"You said I don't understand what it's like to be ostracized. I do. I was, by my own family. They were embarrassed having a male child with a profession commonly attributed to females. Worse, I was treating the dying, those who didn't have a chance. My own brother asked me once, 'What's the point?' So you see, I do know a little bit of that hardship. And I really do get what you're saying. I wish I was there when you saw that kid attacked. It may have made me feel different about the whole thing. But what you really need to see is that giving everybody powers isn't going to fix it."

"Oh, you're saying like you're brother was saying, fearing more Adolf Hitlers and Baron Samedis."

"Yeah, I know neither Father nor Nathan were even thinking about giving powers to everyone in the world. If they made you think they were, they were stringing you along. But I really think even if everybody did have powers, it's not going to fix your problem. In fact, I think it would be worse, more strong people with evil intent with abilities. What's going to fix something like that is going to be the same ingredients that conquered problems like this before, something no ability can offer."

"What's that?"

"Understanding, acceptance, love, especially to the unlovable."

"You're right. You're right!" Michael jumped up and hugged Peter. "I hope you do get your powers back, but even if you never do, you're heart is still the same. Thank you, dear friend." He picked up his phone and a jacket.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To follow your advice!" Michael said as he left.

* * *

An hour had passed. Gabriel and Harmony sat on the hospital, the girl cradled in the boy's lap, rocking and crying as he held her still. Both of them were completely silent. They hadn't heard from anyone for that whole hour. Gabriel was just trying to fight sleep. The door creaked open. Gabriel hoped it was just the wind, but it was the last person he wanted to see.

"And how are you, my children of the Circle?" The angel glared at the monster, trying so hard to hide his fear.

"Hello, so nice to see you!" Harmony said cheerfully.

Sylar smirked at her.

"What was it you told me?" Gabriel said bitterly. "'We gotta stick together? We're family, like it or not?' Didn't you help me, save me because we were cousins?"

"That was a lie."

Gabriel scoffed and shook his head. Once more, he fell for a lie without even knowing it. He felt like a fool. "Wait. It couldn't be a lie. Great Aunt Angela told me the same thing."

"I told you that lie, because she told it to me. Gabriel, I believed it. But now I can tell when people are lying to me. New ability I picked up."

"Is that so? Aren't you lucky," Gabriel answered, still feeling foolish and not sure if he understood. "Can you tell if people are joking?"

"Namesake, what do you think about the Petrellis? What do you think about your Great Aunt Angela and your Great Uncle Arthur, or what is it you call him, the leech?"

"Aren't you the leech now? Didn't you take his power?"

"No, didn't need it. But what do you think about what they've done?"

"What are you getting at?" Gabriel growled.

Sylar started pacing around them. "Their lie to me is a lie to you. I will always remember that look of anger and fear in your face when you thought we were related. You looked so . . . betrayed. Then you came to believe that you really were named after me. I'll never know where you got that idea, but I know it filled you with even more confusion. Everything felt a lot less stable. Everything was changing, which you hated."

Then, Sylar stopped pacing and stared into the boy's face. "And now, I know you feel that same anger, that same confusion, that same hate. I can feel it in you. If I were you, I would direct those feelings towards your aunt for tricking me into believing her . . . and then tricking you to believe in me. For that reason, I offer you something different." He started approaching Gabriel, who started to breathe harder. "Let's get back at her and give her what she deserves for lying to us. Let's turn our backs on the Petrellis and all the corruption they stand for." Then he squatted so that he was down on Gabriel's eye level, and he offered his opened hand. "Join me, Namesake, and we will have our revenge together," he whispered.

Before Gabriel could react, Harmony took Sylar's hand and held his fingers tightly. Gabriel grabbed her wrist and started pulling away. "Harmony, no!"

Sylar smiled at her. "That's right. You'll come with me, my little friend."

"Never!"

"Don't speak for her, Namesake, just because she can't talk!"

Gabriel's hand glowed blue, there was an uncomfortable hum in his ears, and he finally managed to pry her hand away. Harmony started crying. He hugged her closer and then looked directly into Sylar's eyes, despite all of his autistic desire not to. "There are many things in my life I should be ashamed of, but I'm not. I'm not ashamed of my autism. I'm not ashamed of my ability. I'm not ashamed of my family. And until I met you, I was not ashamed of my name." He took a deep breath, not believing what he was about to say. "I don't want to be called Gabriel anymore. Kin or not, namesake or not, I don't want to be associated with a murderer. That is the greatest shame of all, and I cannot bear it. So if you want to kill me, go ahead. I won't resist you. Just take that stigma away for good."

Sylar stood up. "Funny you should mention names. Do you know your father called me 'Gabriel?' He wouldn't call me Sylar. Do you know why he was at Pinehearst? They weren't experimenting on him. He was spying on them."

"_Non!_"

"Yes. Bennet himself hired him. Your father is a spy, and I know how you feel about spies. Makes you question everything. Where was he those years anyway? What was he doing? I can make him tell you. Better yet, I can make you tell me." He pointed at Gabriel's head, and the boy could feel the uncomfortable pressure. "Tell about your father."

Now, Gabriel felt like resisting. "I don't think so."

"What's the matter, afraid of telling a lie? Oh wait, you're autistic, so you can't lie."

"That's a fallacy! I only refrain from lying on moral principle, not because it's impossible!"

"Then tell me this, did he lie to me too?"

Gabriel remained quiet.

"Namesake, say something, or I'll kill you both!"

"Look, if you want some dirt about Papa, I can't tell you anything. He's the only family I've known for most of my life. I've never known anyone smarter or more honest, but I've had no one to compare him to! I love him!"

"Wrong answer. _Adieu_."

But Harmony, though her tears, suddenly looked up at the dark man. She remembered him from the loud, scary house that the man with the shiny eyes took her to. She also remembered that pretty song the girl with straight yellow hair sang to her, the song that made her go to sleep. Though she only heard it once, Harmony remembered every word.

And she sang,

"When you wish upon a star,

Makes no difference who you are.

Anything your heart desires will come to you."

Sylar put down his finger as the words sank in. The remote which put his voice on the PA system fell out of his hand and switched on, and then everyone could hear her sing.

"If your heart is in your dream,

No request is too extreme

When you wish upon a star as dreamer do."

And for a moment, the fear in our heroes subsided. Noah, Meredith, and Claire all looked up in hope. Angela began to mouth the words and wondered if she told Harmony to learn the wrong song. Even the prisoners in Level 5 felt touched. As for Sylar, he fell to his knees, put his hand over his eyes, and turned away. But Harmony kept singing.

"Faith is kind.

She sends to those who love

The sweet fulfillment of

Their secret longing.

Like a boat out on the blue,

Faith steps in and sees you through.

When you wish upon a star,

Your dreams . . . come . . . true . . ."

Gabriel could not believe it. This guy who'd been all tough, who was going to all these lengths to recreate the _Saw_ movies, was fallen by a little girl's song. Something about the light triggered Gabriel's memory. "You _are _the boy! I wonder if that was you, wishing on a star that night."

Sylar's wet eyes met the boy's, and Sylar quickly dried his tears. Then he noticed the intercom was on and quickly shut it off. "And you're the angel?"

"Angel?"

Sylar sighed and shook his head. "No wonder my wish didn't come true."

"Well, you didn't follow my charge, did you? You hurt people, again and again and again!"

Sylar just glared and stood up. "If I were you, I would not worry about the name situation. You will always be Gabriel," he turned toward the door and added, "and I will always be Sylar." Then, he left.

"_Tres bien_, Harmony, _merci_," Gabriel whispered to her. Shortly after, the girl fell asleep, and the boy was finally getting over his anxiety. "I wonder if Mama knew what happened to Hiro?" He pulled out his mother's diary and read one of her last entries more carefully.

* * *

_The storm is getting worse outside. The thunder and lightning are almost constant, and the rain is pouring so hard it's hard to see. In here, it's so quiet. Gabriel is sound asleep. I'm amazed at how well Mr. Nakamura is holding up. Why do I keep feeling like I'm being watched?_

Gabriel saw her sitting in the apartment of the Deveaux building, scribbling in her diary. She happened to see a young Japanese man come through followed by a child. "Oh, are you Hiro?"

Both of them looked up at the same time and had the same amazed expression. "_Hai_!" the child answered eagerly. The young man started to reply but then refrained.

"Your mother told me about you. You were studying when I came to visit. I wanted to meet you."

The boy looked very confused.

"You don't know what I'm saying, do you? Um, _parlez-vous francais?"_ (Do you speak French?)

He still looked confused.

She sighed. "Wish I knew Japanese. It's such a lovely language. I should encourage Gabriel to learn it when he's old enough."

The older's man face lit up. He looked at the boy and said something quickly in Japanese. The boy smiled, nodded, and came close to the woman.

She smiled. "You look very smart."

The older man translated, and the boy just grinned. "_Domo_," he replied, bowing.

"I'm very sorry about your mother. Hey, there are some good rolls in the kitchen."

The older man translated for the child, and the boy ran off.

"It was good to meet you!" The older man still stood there. "I take it you speak English"

"Yes," he replied.

"Well, thank you for translating. Are you his tutor?"

"I am . . . the cook."

"_I bet Sylar could see right through that lie," _Gabriel thought.

"I had one of your rolls. They are very good."

"Thank you. But you know, they were for Mr. Nakamura and his children because of their loss, but they can't eat all those rolls by themselves, I suppose."

"Did you say your son's name is Gabriel?"

"That's right. Here he is." She help up the baby carrier.

"Ah," the young man said coming closer. "I have a friend named Gabriel. He's from France."

"Yeah, that's where we're from."

The young man's eyes grew wide. "Is that . . . a diary you're writing in?"

"That's right."

"I have an odd request." He pulled out a piece of paper. "Could you keep this note in your diary?"

Ruth looked at it. "What is it? What does it say?"

"It's a secret. It must be kept in a secret place."

"Will you ever need it back?"

"No, I just need it safe."

"Alright. I'll do my best to keep it safe, then."

"Thank you." The young man bowed deeply to her. Then he rushed out of the room. Ruth put the note in her book.

* * *

Gabriel turned his eyes away from the book. The note! Hiro must have left it for him, but what was it? He flipped through the diary until a loose paper fell out. Gabriel opened it up and saw Japanese writing. He read it out loud:

My dear Hiro,

If anything should happen to you, know that the catalyst is not lost. I have a passed a small spark of the light to–

Gabriel paused. He couldn't say it. It was too amazing. He gulped, took a deep breath, and managed to say it.

–to the son of Arthur and Angela Petrelli's niece. I also hid some of the light in the heart of your sister, Kimiko. Not even your father knows about this, and I do not want him to. As long as they are not aware, they can hold on to the light. It will not be as strong since these are only flickers of the brighter flame in you. Yet if an emergency arises that may call for the catalyst and you are unable to provide it, these children may stand for you.

I love you, my son,

Mother

So, he was right. He was the catalyst! Sorta. But what did this mean, a small spark? Could this account for the light, the resistance, the limitless possibility? But if so, how could this account for Papa, or Harmony, or the other autistic friends he knew? What about Hiro's sister Kimiko? He never said she was autistic . . . but her daughter Hanami is! Maybe Kimiko passed it on to her. Could it be that this is why Hanami understands her power better than anyone else? Oh, if it was true, then the catalyst must have some other purpose beyond merely perfecting a formula. What could it be?

He wondered if there were any other clues in the diary. He went back to reading.

* * *

A crack of lightning, followed by booming thunder. The little baby turned and moaned in his sleep. Ruth put down her diary, picked him up, and carried him around the room cradled in her arms. Suddenly, something knocked her off her feet. The baby immediately woke up and cried. Ruth spoke gently and continued to rock him.

"Oh!" a voice suddenly cried in surprise. She looked up and saw another Japanese young man who seemed to come out of nowhere. Gabriel recognized him as Ando, but what was he doing here? "I am so sorry, ma'am. I didn't see you. Here, let me help you up." He held out his hand, and she took it. As soon as their hands touched, Gabriel was sure that red sparks came out of Ando's hand. Ruth's eyes went very wide. "Are you alright, ma'am?" Ando said as he pulled her up.

"Ando!" That was clearly Daphne's voice. Why was she here?

"Oh, yes. Sorry, ma'am." Ando bowed at her, took Daphne's hand, and dashed off.

Ruth quickly went back to the couch, grabbed her journal, wrote on every last page, wearing the pencil down to a nub. Her face never lost that expression of terrified surprise. With the last sentence, she put down the pencil and the diary, leaned over baby carrier, and kissed the sleeping infant. Then, when the storm was as bad as ever, she opened the doors to the garden and walked slowly to the edge of the roof. She opened up her arms and said loudly,

"Cast a cold eye

On life, on death.

HORSEMEN, PASS BY!"

Then, she let herself fall, but she didn't fall. She felt as though someone grabbed the zipper of her dress just as she began to descend. She felt someone pull her up.

"What's gotten into you? Are you mad?!" There was a strange look in her eyes. Her pupils were very dilated, and she didn't look focused. "Oh . . . you are, aren't you?"

"I can't live in a world like this," she said softly.

"That bad, eh? Is it, really?"

She nodded.

"What about your child? What about his father? Should they go it alone?"

She looked down and sighed. "It won't matter anyway."

"What?"

"Madame Bonhomme!" Mr. Nakamura stood at the door. "Why are you out here, after I provided you shelter from this? Come inside, you're soaked!"

She went past him and picked up her baby. "The pan belongs to Aunt Angela. Please return it to her. I'm going home."

Claude noticed when he looked toward the door to the greenhouse, he could see her reflection but not his own. He didn't realize he was invisible. She didn't see him, but she still talked to him. Strange.

He followed her in, was just as surprised that she was leaving. Then, he saw that her diary was still on the couch. He ran after her in the stairwell, trying to get her attention, but she never looked back. Curiosity got the better of him, and Claude opened to an entry in the back. His face, visible or not, suddenly adopted that same expression of terror. "Ye gods," he whispered.

* * *

"Reading Mummy's book again?" Gabriel looked up and saw Sylar staring coldly into his face. "Come on. I have something to show you, something I believe will change your mind."

"Not interested," Gabriel muttered.

"Really? Because I was just thinking about killing your aunt right after finding out once and for all if she is really my mother. Now are you interested?"

Gabriel put the book down and left Harmony behind. Just after he left, Doyle who was just outside in the hall got up. He went into the room and saw her sleeping. "Pinocchia?"

"Strom-bully?" she muttered.

He couldn't tell if she was awake or not. He raised his above her and started to dangle his fingers as though he was holding marionette strings, as he often did. She never moved. She really didn't have strings. Then suddenly, so suddenly it even surprised Doyle, both her arms shot up in the air. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Help."

* * *

Gabriel followed Sylar to Great Aunt Angela's office, the same place where she spoke to him after she woke up. Angela acted as though she expected them. Sylar nonchalantly went to the bookcase as Gabriel stood in the doorway. "So, you killed Arthur," she said flatly.

Sylar turned to her. "I certainly did."

"Then, you saved the world. I was right about you all along. You are a hero.

Sylar walked toward her. "I don't think so."

"You're wrong. I always wanted this for you. I always wanted this for you. I dreamed about it. Now, with Arthur dead, there's no one to hold you back, no one to take advantage of you."

He threw her into a chair and whispered, "Except you."

"Gabriel," she said slowly, "I cared for you. I gave you love, guidance, everything a mother–"

"YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!" Sylar shouted as he grabbed the chair. Then, he whispered, "Are you? And I can tell if you're lying."

He sat across from her. Gabriel came from the doorway and watched her closely.

Angela took a deep breath. "No, I'm not."

Sylar looked at her sadly. "For a brief moment, I wished you were, but then I remembered how powerful wishes are. Why did you lie to me?"

"I told you! My sons were such a disappointment, and I wanted another chance to give the love only a mother can."

Sylar heard ringing in his ears and felt a tingle in his brain, but before he could comment, Gabriel came closer. "Wait! Why did you lie to _me_?"

"You have to understand, Gabriel. I had to lie to you so that he could believe it. The more people who believed it, the more solid the lie became!" She looked pitifully at her nephew. "_Je sais que j'avais tort. J'ai voulu te dire la verite. Je suis desole."_

But Sylar smiled coldly and turned to Gabriel. "_Non, elle n'est pas._"

Gabriel looked at him in shock. What could he mean?

"She's not sorry. She didn't want to tell you the truth. She wanted you to be comfortable with the lie, perhaps even go to your death thinking that we were family! But that other thing she said was true–she knew it was wrong."

"But why?" Gabriel asked her. "I am your family! Why lie to me?"

"This is what I do, Gabriel. You're so trusting, so naive, I could get away with it," she replied looking at him. "Both of you are so flawed, weak, and malleable, so easily manipulated. I used you, Sylar, for the good of the Company. And you, Gabriel . . . I can't entirely explain, but you'll thank me one day."

Gabriel suddenly turned to Sylar. "How did you get that power? That lying thing, why do you have it? Where did you get it from?"

"Why do you want to know?" Sylar asked.

"Because I want it! I need it! Don't you know how stupid I feel for falling for a lie like this? I can't even tell when people are literal or figurative, when they're joking or serious! This ability you have is everything I could ever want. Why do you have it?"

"What are you going to do, take it out of me?"

"_Non_, I'm not going to become you."

"It's a little late for that."

"Do you really want it, Gabriel?" Great Aunt Angela said. "There is a way you can find it."

"_NON! FERME LA BOUCHE! FERME LA BOUCHE!!!_ I WON'T BE MANIPULATED BY YOU ANYMORE!" He clenched both his hands hard, and he glowed a violent blue.

"You see?" Sylar said as came behind Gabriel and whispered in his hear.

"Don't try to convince him that he's you, Sylar," Angela said with a smile. "He's more like his mother. She was one of the few to resist me, too."

"Enough!" Sylar demanded. He started making a fist, and Great Aunt Angela began gasping for air. "Is there any good in this world? Just tell me something, anything, just make me believe that you're not the same as me?"

"I know who your real parents are," she said.

Sylar let go. "You're telling the truth, for once."

"You're not the son of a watchmaker and a woman who collected snow globes!"

"Who am I, then?"

"I've known for a long time. I knew you were unhappy with your family situation. I tried to change things, but they didn't go the way I planned. If you kill me, you'll never find out."

Sylar made a fist again, and Angela gasped for air. "Tell me. Tell me! I WANT THE TRUTH!"

Suddenly, he fell over. Claire attacked him by plunging a shard of glass into the back of his head. The spy was on her heels. "We have to leave, now!"

"Get Angela out of here!" Claire ordered.

The spy looked at Gabriel. "Where's Harmony?"

"I'll get her!" Gabriel offered. He ran for the other room, but he saw a man carrying her in his arms. "Who are you?"

The man just glared and gave her to Gabriel. "Get her out of my sight. What good's a puppet without strings?" He walked away.

Gabriel didn't understand, but once he had the little girl, he ran out the building as fast as he could. A moment later, the whole building was in flames. He stood with the others and watched as it burned to the ground. He didn't understand the whole significance of the event, but one thing was certain in his mind–his namesake was gone forever.

* * *

Smoke filled his lungs. The heat was unbearable. He couldn't move because of the wound in his head. The invincible cheerleader tried to get him at the Achilles' Heel. It was because of that, he knew he was going to die.

Yet he felt something soft and heavy cover him from head to toe. He felt himself being carried by strong arms. Once outside, he took a very deep breath and sat up. Many of his clothes were burned, and his shirt and the back of his neck were damp with fresh blood. He felt that wound on the back of his head slowly seal. He turned around to see the building of the Company burning to the sky.

How could this be? Everyone hated him. Everyone wanted him dead, after all he did to them. Who would save him? Just a small turn of his head gave him his answer.

"You!"

His piano-playing friend smiled. "Hello, Gabriel."

He thought about what Angela nearly told him. Could this be his real father? Why else would he save him? But isn't he too young? Well, he probably didn't know the truth, so he wouldn't be good to ask. So instead, Sylar said, "You saved my life, after everything I've done. You know, I'm not your kin. Your wife's aunt isn't my mother."

"Yes, I know."

"So . . . why?"

Michael knelt down to him. "You may not be kin, Gabriel, but I believe with all of my heart that one day, you will be my brother."

Sylar waiting for that tingle, that familiar ring in his ears, but it didn't happen. "You're not lying."

"So, you can tell when people lie, now? What about the lies in your own heart? Do they set you off?"

"What do you mean?"

Michael looked at him. "You're worthless."

Then, his ears started ringing.

But Michael went on. "You're no good. You're evil, right down to your very heart. What you're doing is right! What you're doing is the only way to make you feel special, to feel good. You must murder! You must steal! You must deceive! You must lust and covet! You are far from redemption! You can never change! You can never be forgiven! There is no hope!"

Sylar held his ears and screamed. His anti-lie alarm went off so many times, it felt like an electric shock in his brain. "Stop! Stop!"

"You see? These are lies you have told yourself for years. But you've heard them so long, they don't sound like lies, do they?"

Sylar scoffed. "So what are you going to do about it? You are going to save my soul? You're following an empty wish. I'm not going to change."

"What if you could? Would you do it?"

"Yes!" But he paused and added, "But not right now."

"Why not?"

"I must find my father. I will probably need to do bad things to find him, to make him see me again."

"No, you don't. Your father misses you. He's waiting for you."

Sylar felt a buzz in the back of his brain. "Now you're lying!"

"No, I'm telling you the truth! I'm being more truthful to you than ever. It's just not the truth you want to hear. I can show you how to find him. I have the roadmap."

He pulled a Bible out of his pocket and handed it to Sylar. The murderer sneered at this sappy, obvious, naive Christian . . . trick! Yet when he felt the leather cover in his hand, he somehow knew how special this was. "This is your Bible. You've had it for over twenty years, since June 13, 1980. You were just a boy, and the preacher gave it to you . . ."

". . . after I was baptized," Michael concluded.

"Something this special, and you're just . . . giving this to me? I don't understand."

"It's because you're not beyond hope, Gabriel. Other people who have done far worse than you have found the grace that you desire. 'The vilest offenders who truly obey that moment may enter the Heavenly Way.'"

Sylar then threw the Bible on the ground and used his telekinesis to push Michael against a tree. "I can show you just how deluded and naive you are. You know what happened to the farmer who saved the life of a poisonous snake? He got bit." He approached the professor, performed a death grip, pointed his finger, and started to cut open the head, just enough for two drops of blood to fall. Then, he dropped him. "But I want to cancel my debt to you right away." Michael rose to all fours and tried to catch his breath, and Sylar whispered in his ear, "Next time, you won't be so lucky."

"I'll be praying for you from now on. I forgive you, Gabriel. Now you need to forgive yourself." Michael stood up and began to walk away.

"What will your son think?" Sylar called after him.

"He doesn't have to know," Michael answered.

Sylar heaved a huge sigh and picked the Bible off the ground. He didn't need his fingerprints lying around anyway. Suddenly, he felt something in his pocket. He reached in a pulled out a sunflower blossom. He vaguely remembered closing his hand around a sunflower seed and wishing it to become a sunflower. What was it Michael told him? He had to know someone to empathize with him. Is this a sign that he finally knew his mysterious friend? Or did it mean something else?

"Perhaps there is good in this world. Perhaps sometimes . . . wishes do come true," Sylar thought aloud. "Well, wishing to see my father's not going to make him appear."

* * *

"Watching the fireworks, Son?"

Gabriel turned around! "Papa!" He gave him a big hug.

Michael laughed. "Ready to go home?"

"_Oui!" _the boy said eagerly. "Papa, were you really . . . ?"

"We have much to talk about."

Gabriel nodded. They did.

"Did you decide on a job?"

"Oh!" Gabriel almost forgot about that. Judging from the things his aunt told him, he only saw one option. Gabriel pulled a card out of his pocket and dialed the number on his cellphone. "Massive Dynamic," a female voice replied.

"Nina Sharp, please?"

"Speaking."

"This is Gabri--" (The boy paused and gulped, knowing there was no turning back now) "Gabe Bonhomme. I'd like to take that job."

End of Volume

* * *

Epilogue–Spectrum: Refugees

Months later, Harvard University

Gabe was walking across campus talking on his cellphone in Japanese. "Really, Hiro, I was close to choosing your company, but they needed me here . . . It is a good deal. The American government is taking good care of me. I have its full services, not that I will ever need them. Plus, I get to attend extra classes for free, at Harvard! . . . Well, it's something impressive for my resume. Besides, many Nobel laureates went to Harvard or teach at Harvard . . . The team is very good. I mean, there's not much special about them, but they are interesting people . . . Well, I cannot go into many details, but I'll say this–it's a lot of things, but it's never boring."

Suddenly, Gabe was surrounded by people with guns. They were shouting, "Down on the ground! Hands where I can see them."

Gabe dropped the phone. "No! I have amnesty! Amnesty! I work for the American government!" He showed his badge. "FBI, Fringe science division! Talk to Agent Broyles! Talk to Agent Dunham! They'll tell you!" The gunmen continued to surround him, closing him in, and Gabe continued to scream, "AMNESTY! AMNESTY!"

Just beyond the armed men, Gabe saw a man standing alone out there, a man he saw at the cafeteria a number of times staring at him, the same way he was staring at him now. He wore formal clothes, a passive expression, and absolutely no hair–not even eyebrows.

To be continued . . .


End file.
